Ill Wishes
by film princess
Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSamJohn. Dean is 17, Sam is 13. Not related to my other series.
1. Why Now?

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

Dean Winchester spent all night tossing and turning, attempting to hold back his coughs so his brother and father didn't hear them.

If he were honest with himself, he felt like total crap. But there was a hunt scheduled for tomorrow so he wasn't going to say anything that would make his father leave him behind.

He had never hunted a black dog before and to say he was excited would have been an understatement. It seemed as though Sammy could care less, but he was never as interested in hunting as Dean was.

Sam lay curled up on the bed next to Dean's. Thankfully, he was still fast asleep. Dean had been worried when a rather violent bout of coughing overwhelmed his system. He hid his head underneath his pillow to stifle his misery. _Why now? _

Dean watched the clock as the hours ticked by and the sunlight began to flood their room. Just as the clock read six thirty, there was pounding on their door. Sam groaned and tried to roll over and block it out. Dean jumped, having been startled out of his own thoughts, not to mention the fog that seemed to have invaded his head.

"Dude, get up." Dean threw a pillow at his brother and made his way to the bathroom before Sammy could get a good look at him. He hoped a nice cool shower would wake him up effectively and that he wouldn't look like death when he stepped back out of the door.

As Dean passed by the mirror he was horrified at his reflection. He was as pale as a sheet of paper, sweat gleaned all over his body, and he had large panda-like black bands around his eyes. _Shit…_

He hastily jumped into the shower and felt his tense muscles slowly start to ease. When he got back out, he was relieved to find his reflection at least fifty percent better than before. He looked more refreshed than diminished. Now he just had to convince his dad and Sammy, not to mention survive his dad's morning training session. They would wait until dark to go after the beast, but John would make damn sure his boys were ready for the hunt first.

While Dean made his way downstairs for a quick breakfast, he could hear his brother and dad going at it like they usually did. _Oh, what now?_

Judging from the parts of the conversation he heard, Sam had fallen back asleep while Dean was in the shower to be rudely awakened by a very frustrated father. John's word was law, so when he said "get up" you moved or suffered the consequences.

"With your attitude today I have half a mind to drop you off at Pastor Jim's while Dean and I take the hunt," John threatened.

"That's what I want you to do! I don't care about the damn dog! I have homework to finish and a quiz tomorrow to study for!!" Sam's half a bowl of Lucky Charms was quickly getting mushy as it sat forgotten in front of him.

"Fine! If you're going to act like you're five, then you'll be no use to us anyway. I'll call Jim while you boys are running laps."

"Why do I have to train if I'm not going?" Sam was clearly agitated. No one had yet noticed Dean standing by the bottom of the stairs.

"Because I said so! Now eat your damn breakfast and get ready to start."

Dean was debating on slinking quietly back upstairs to avoid the argument, knowing that his family members would both use him against the other and not wanting to be dragged into it. Unfortunately, his lungs decided differently. A few coughs escaped his mouth before he was able to suppress them. All eyes were now on him.

"There you are. Hurry up and grab some chow. You'll need the fuel," his father informed, clearly not picking up on Dean's coughs for which he was grateful.

Sam, however, didn't miss it and shot him a calculating look. Dean knew Sam was going to ask if he was okay so he quickly shook his head to stop him while their dad's back was turned. Sam frowned but stayed quiet. The middle Winchester held back his sigh of relief. So far, so good.

He wolfed down a bowl of cereal and quickly regretted it. It didn't seem to want to stay down. Dean fought against the urge to run to the bathroom and instead drank the rest of his milk.

"I want the two of you outside in ten, got that?"

"Yes sir," they replied in unison, though Sam's had a hint of sarcasm to it. Thankfully, John ignored it.

As the boys stepped out into the sun, Dean felt his spirits lift. The fresh air seemed to be doing a lot of good. His stomach didn't seem to be revolting as much now.

"Fifty laps around the house. Go." John hit the button on his stop watch as the boys took off around the corner, Sam already complaining.

"Fifty?! We usually only do forty!"

"I'm aware of that, Sam," Dean bit out, trying to concentrate on his pace.

"I swear he's trying to kill us."

"He's trying to prepare us. Come on, man… we can do fifty laps in our sleep. Race ya!"

Dean always had a way of turning their work into play. Sam didn't know how he'd survive without his big brother. He hoped he'd never have to find out. They quickened their paces and tried to overtake each other.

On the twentieth lap, Sam overtook Dean yet again but slowed his pace as he heard his brother coughing harshly. He turned back to find that Dean had stopped a few feet behind and was bent double as his chest constricted and the coughs wracked his body.

"Dean? Hey man, you okay?" Sam trotted back to Dean's side and placed a comforting hand on his back. The heat and moisture he felt coming from his brother's body sending warning signals to his brain.

Dean curled his arms around his torso trying to ease the pain in his muscles. God, it hurt.

"Sit down." Sam guided Dean to the ground who didn't have the strength or energy to push him away. Once he was down, Sam grabbed his wrists and held them above his head to help clear his passageways. Dean put up a valiant fight because he thought his arms would be doing a hell of a lot more good cradling his ribs. "Stop fighting me, Dean. Trust me, this'll help. Try to relax and breathe through it."

Dean could only glare at his brother, easily conveying that that was exactly what he had been trying to do this whole time. When he could finally draw breath again, Sam patted him on the back, loosening up the fluid that had taken up residence in his lungs. Dean cleared his throat and spit onto the grass, very thankful his breakfast hadn't reemerged yet.

"Help me up, Sammy. Dad's gonna be wondering what's taking us so long to get back around."

"He can be a heartless bastard sometimes, Dean, but if you told him you weren't feeling good, he'd understand and let you off the hook."

"I don't want to be off the hook. I want to hunt tonight."

"But Dean…"

"Come on, Sam. We don't have all day." Dean forced himself up off the ground and began trotting towards the front of the house. He tried to ignore the pain in his chest which was screaming for him to stop.

Sam came trotting up to his side and kept pace with him, ready to intervene if the situation called for it.

"Damn, boys! My grandmother could run faster than you two, and she's been dead for fifteen years! Pick it up! We don't have all day here."

The youngest Winchester loved his dad, but right now, he could throttle him. Couldn't he see that Dean was sick? Didn't he care about his sons?

Dean sped up, his whole body screaming in protest. Sam easily matched his increased speed, biting his lip to see how much his brother was struggling. On any other day, Dean would have been three laps ahead of him.

Finally, the fifty laps were finished. They stood in front of their father, Sam scowling, Dean trying to remain upright, waiting for their next task.

John had set up two stations of glass bottles in the woods behind their hotel room. He handed them each their own gun, paced them a few yards back, and informed them they had six bullets and six bottles, so they better not miss any.

It took a lot more concentration than usual for Dean to grip his sweaty hands around the gun and aim while his vision was swimming, but being such an excellent marksman, he compensated for these setbacks and nailed every bottle. Sam almost missed the last one but managed to clip the side, sending the shattered pieces to the ground.

"Good job, boys. Twenty push ups each and then go get cleaned up."

The boys dropped to the ground wordlessly and set to work. Dean was gasping for breath by his tenth push up. He rested on the ground while his dad went inside to get them water. Sam glanced over mid push up.

"Just relax, Dean. I won't tell dad if you don't get through all twenty."

"I've got it, Sammy. No worries." With that, Dean pulled his arms back underneath him and stubbornly finished the last ten. When he tried to push himself to his feet, his body protested angrily, making him gasp out loud.

"You okay?" Sam looked really worried. Dean, being a big brother, quickly went to console him.

"I'm always okay. You?"

"I'm fine. Dean, I don't think you should go on this hunt tonight. You should be resting."

"I can rest when I'm dead, Sammy."

"Yeah, well no need to rush that along. There'll be other black dogs I'm sure."

"Someone's gotta have dad's back."

"I could go, or he could call Bobby or Pastor Jim, or Caleb…"

"Nuh huh. You've got homework to do, Jim's on babysitting duty cause you got dad pissed off, Bobby's too far away, and Caleb is on a hunt already. That leaves me, and I ain't gonna miss this. So drop it."

"Why are you always so freakin' stubborn?"

"Cause I'm a Winchester, and watch your mouth." Dean smirked at Sam's stunned face. Just then, John returned with two full water bottles.

"Drink up. We can't have you guys getting dehydrated on us, can we?"

"No, sir," again said in unison. Dean greedily gulped down the cool water which eased his aching throat, but regretted it almost instantly the second it reached his stomach.

"I call bathroom first," he stated and headed into the house quickly. John assumed he was merely pulling rank on his little brother. Sam had a feeling this was something else though.

Once the bathroom door was shut behind him, Dean dove for the toilet. All the nice cold water came rushing back up, accompanied by his meager breakfast. He swore he felt his ribs crack as he wretched violently, his entire body seizing. His throat felt as though he had swallowed glass.

To make matters worse, there was a knock at the door. "I'm fine, Sam! Jeez! Give a guy a break! I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Dean?" John's voice cut through his tirade. _Shit… busted._ "What are you doing in there?"

"Just washing up, dad. I'll be out soon."

"Alright, bud. I'm gonna bring your brother to Jim's. Eat some lunch and be ready to head out when I get back."

"Will do." Dean heard his father's footsteps trail away. _Thank god he didn't hear anything…_

This was going to be a very long night for Dean Winchester.

TBC

What do you think so far? What would you like to see?


	2. Not Alone

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

The entire ride to Jim's, Sam struggled with himself over whether or not to tell his father about Dean's current condition. He knew his brother would kick his ass if he did, but on the other hand, Dean could get hurt if he kept quiet about it. He wished his dad would just pay a little more attention to his sons, rather than the hunt, and figure it out himself.

"Behave yourself. I'll pick you back up tomorrow. Tell Jim I said thanks."

Before Sam had decided what to say, he was dropped off on the pastor's doorstep and John had taken off again to get back to Dean and his preparations for the hunt.

Sam rolled his eyes, then turned to knock on the door. He was quickly greeted by Jim who waved him inside.

"Hope you're hungry, Sam. I've got a mean stew brewing." He ruffled Sam's hair as he entered.

"Sorry about the late notice. Thanks for taking me, from me and my dad."

"You're very welcome. You and your brother are always welcome here." Sam smiled and dropped his books off in the room he and Dean usually stayed in when they were at the pastor's house.

All through lunch, the pastor could tell that Sam was very subdued.

"What is it, Sam?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing…" Sam pushed a potato around his plate absentmindedly.

"Come now, I listen to confessions enough to know there is something on your mind."

"It's… Dean…"

"What about your brother?" Concern laced Jim's words.

"He hasn't been feeling well and I don't think he should be going on the hunt tonight."

"Does your father know this?"

"Yeah right. He doesn't give a damn." Looking slightly horror struck he quickly amended, "darn. Sorry father."

"I understand. But I promise you your father cares a lot more than you give him credit for. I know he's not the best at showing it, but John loves you boys more than anything."

"Coulda fooled me." Jim frowned, upset that his friend could never express his feelings to his children.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, then Jim gave Sam some chores to do around the house to keep his mind from worrying all night. Sadly, it didn't work. Sam kept one eye on his watch and his stomach clenched every time an hour ticked by, bringing the evening closer.

Ten minutes into the time where Sam knew his family would be tracking the black dog, Sam couldn't take it anymore.

"Pastor? Can I make a quick phone call?"

"To whom?"

"My brother."

"You think that wise? They've already started their hunt, have they not? It could give their position away."

"He'll have his phone on vibrate. Please. I've gotta make sure he's okay."

"You have to do what you have to do. Be my guest. Phone's on the kitchen table."

Sam scurried over to the phone. He couldn't explain why this was so important to him, but he had a terrible feeling something was wrong. He needed to hear his brother's voice before he could relax again.

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Dean and John exited the truck a few feet from the tree line that was concealing the black dog.

"Okay, you remember the plan, Dean?"

"Yeah, dad. We've gone over it a hundred times."

"You can't be too careful. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I'll be fine. I always am."

"So you keep telling me." John sent his son a calculating look. Dean did seem a bit paler than usual, but he chalked it up to nerves. If the boy was sick, he'd say so, right? "Let's get this over with. Stick with me and always keep your…"

"Gun at the ready. I know, dad. I've got this. Let's go." As Dean stepped out of the car the whole world swayed around him. He stumbled slightly and reached out to clutch onto the door of the truck to steady himself. John, who had gone straight to the trunk for weapons thankfully didn't notice. _That was a little close for comfort._

Once the trees seemed relatively stationary, Dean slowly made his way to his dad to receive the gun.

John led the way into the forest, Dean trailing close behind. Not more than fifteen feet into the woods they heard the tell-tale signs of movement. They weren't alone. Both hunters tensed and raised their weapons as a closely knit group of trees about five yards to their right. All was silent now, but they had both noticed the shaking of the leaves.

Dean suddenly found it really hard to breath. Almost as though his lungs had completely surrendered and collapsed on him. His throat tightened and his heartbeat increased dramatically. He could feel the pounding in his chest and head.

The other entity stepped out from behind the trees and Dean gasped with what little air he could manage.

"Son of a bitch, Caleb! We could've shot you! What the hell are you doing here?" John roared.

"Sorry, boys. Didn't mean to startle you, and I should be asking what you guys are doing here. This is _my_ hunt. I've been tracking this damn dog for a week now."

"This is the hunt you said you were taking? Why the hell didn't you say so?"

"Cause you would've wanted to show as my backup as always. You've already got two kids, John. You don't need to claim me as a third. I'm fine on my own. Not that I'm not happy to see you or anything… You understand."

"Yeah, I think I caught your drift. We weren't planning on stepping on your toes. We just came to solve the problem, but if you've got it covered, we'll back out."

"No sense wasting the trip. You're here, so let's finish this thing." Caleb turned to Dean. "Welcome to the fight, kiddo. First black dog, right?"

Neither of the men seemed to realize Dean was in trouble yet, too busy with their discussion. Dean used all his strength to force his lungs to cooperate and expand and contract on cue. He needed to keep himself together. You can't fall apart in the middle of a hunt. That would be suicide.

Not being able to verbally respond, Dean just nodded. John frowned at him, slightly confused by his son's sudden ability to keep quiet when he usually couldn't shut him up, and also a little concerned. His daddy radar was kicking in. Something was wrong.

Before he could ask his son yet again if he was alright, a twig snapped loudly nearby followed by a low growl.

TBC

Please review!!!! Let me know what you want to read!!!!


	3. Their Bite Is Sharper Than Their Bark

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

Hahaha. Because I love all my readers and felt cruel leaving you all with a cliffy, he's a second update that I just wrote to keep you all happy!!! Thanks for all the reviews so far!!

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Caleb signaled John and Dean that he had a visual twenty paces away at two o'clock. The Winchesters nodded their understanding. Unfortunately, that's when they heard a second growl a bit closer in the opposite direction.

"Shit!" John shouted in frustration. Nothing in their research informed them that there may be more than one black dog in a specific area. As far as he knew, they hunted alone. Apparently, he was wrong. A howl sounded in the distance. There was a whole pack and they were closing in.

They weren't prepared for this hunt any longer. John wasn't about to risk his son's life like this. It was too big to handle.

"Dean, run! Get inside the truck and lock the doors. Caleb and I'll follow."

"But dad…!" Dean protested. He wasn't ready to walk away so easily and leave his father and friend to the dogs.

"GO! Now damn it!!" Dean stumbled back from his father in fear. He had never heard that tone from him before. John's voice was filled with unadulterated terror for his eldest son. Without another word, Dean hurried through the undergrowth back towards the truck.

His infected lungs had other ideas however. When he heard a black dog hot on his trail, he tried to speed up but couldn't get the strength or energy to succeed. Not without oxygen.

Dean needed to cough and clear his lungs, but he couldn't get them to cooperate any longer. Without the needed oxygen to feed his screaming muscles, his legs seized up and he hit the ground hard.

The impact forced him to relinquish his hold on the gun and it went sailing through the air, landing a good fifteen feet away.

The next sensation he felt were the clawed feet of the beast and its heavy weight on top of him. It just stood there at first, as though claiming its territory. Dean could feel its sharp nails digging through his t-shirt and into the top layers of his skin.

The creature's hot breath ghosted over Dean's neck sending chills down his spine. Moving strictly on instinct, he brought his arms up over his head to protect it and his neck, knowing full well that these types of beasts tended to go straight for the jugular.

With the added pressure on his back, Dean couldn't breathe at all. He didn't have the strength to fill his lungs. In panic and flooded with adrenaline, he attempted to drag himself and the beast above him towards his gun. The beast growled, then howled loudly to let the rest of the pack know it had found an easy feast.

Black dots coated Dean's vision as his body began to shut down. The pain began to recede from his body to be replaced with blissful peace. He realized he had stopped moving, but had no idea when. He felt himself detach from his physical form. He vaguely heard shouting in the distance, then felt his phone vibrating in his left pocket.

The beast decided it had waited long enough. It pounced on the boy's back, using its weight as an advantage and drooling as the satisfying sound of a rib or two snapping beneath it, then when it knew its prey wasn't going to put up much of a fight, it began to tear its claws down the boy's back. Another dog joined the party and bit into Dean's right shoulder, attempting to drag him away from the first as though playing tug of war. Dean let out a guttural scream of pain with what little air he inhaled as the beast temporarily left his body, then gave into the beckoning darkness.

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"Pastor, he's not answering his phone. Something's wrong."

"I told you, Sam… maybe it's not safe to answer his phone right now. Give him time."

"Dean always answers! No matter what! I'm telling you something isn't right!"

"Have you tried your father yet?"

"He never answers." Jim's heart constricted at the emptiness in the boy's voice.

"Then I will try him." The pastor took the phone and dialed John's number which he had memorized years ago. _Please let them be okay…_

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John managed to shoot and kill the beast tearing at his son's back, but only maimed the second one. He was out of bullets.

"Son of a bitch! Get the fuck off of my boy!"

Caleb quickly arrived at his side and sent the last three bullets he had into the beast, sending its lifeless form to the ground, teeth still imbedded in Dean's profusely bleeding shoulder.

"God… Dean!" John quickly made his way to his eldest's side. Due to the darkness, John couldn't see Dean's injuries and was frantic. He dropped to his knees but was afraid to move his son until he knew the extent of the damage. Caleb stood a few feet away, reloading his gun with his last five bullets and keeping an eye out any more dogs in the area. He couldn't keep his eyes from flickering to Dean's still form.

John angrily grabbed the beast that was still attached to Dean and snapped its jaw, freeing his son from its grasp.

"Dean? Dean! I need you to wake up, kiddo," John coached. Dean remained on his stomach, completely motionless.

"Shit. Son, you need to respond for me." He carefully laid two fingers on the side of Dean's neck feeling for a pulse. At first, he couldn't find one and his heart sank into his stomach.

Thankfully, after pressing a little harder and sliding his fingers down a few centimeters, he felt the erratic and sluggish pulse. "Thank god."

"Is he alive, John?" Caleb called over his shoulder.

"Barely. I can't see a damn thing. We've gotta get him in the light before I can evaluate his injuries." Caleb nodded even though he knew John wasn't watching him.

"Dean? Come on buddy. You gotta wake up now." John gently moved Dean's lax hands away from his head and placed them on the ground above him. He carefully tapped the side of Dean's face that was facing upwards.

After a few heart stopping moments for the father, Dean began to stir. He hadn't moved far before he let out a pained yelp, making John jump back slightly. He slid back to his son's side and saw the intense pain written across his face in the form of a grimace. His eyes were squeezed shut, attempting to block out the rest of the world.

John ran his fingers through Dean's hair to calm him. "Son, I need you to open your eyes for me. I know you can do it…" To his relief, Dean's eyes opened to mere slits, but something was better than nothing.

"Atta boy. Can you talk? Where are you hurt?" Dean's breathing began to pick up pace till he was panting. "Kiddo, you need to calm down. I know you're in pain, but you're going to hyperventilate if you don't control your breathing."

The slightest of nods was the only response he got and he watched proudly as his son fought against the pain to try and do as his father asked.

"That's it… breath nice and slow… in and out…good Dean. Now I need to check you over for injuries so just hang in there for me, okay?" Another minimal nod. John could feel Dean's form shaking beneath his finger tips. Either he was really cold or going into shock.

John started with the essential areas, being the nervous system. He ran his fingers through Dean's hair again, half to help calm him, and half to make sure there were no cracks or dents in his skull.

He then moved down to his son's neck and spine, making sure they were all straight and not broken. Everything seemed to be in order.

"Dean, can you move your fingers and feet for me?"

Dean tapped all his fingers once against the hard earth above his head, then shifter his feet slightly.

"Good boy." So no paralysis. At least that was something. Knowing his son was having trouble breathing, he decided to check his ribs next. He started up, just below Dean's shoulders and ran his steady hands over each rib. Thankfully, his boys were so skinny that even through a t-shirt, he had no problem assessing the bones.

John began to breathe easier as he worked his way through his boy's rib cage and wasn't finding any significant damage. However, as he reached the last two ribs and put slight pressure on them, Dean let out a strangled yelp and tried to struggle away from his dad's ministrations.

"Easy! Easy, son. I'm sorry. Just keep breathing for me. You'll be alright." John's heart broke as he saw the tears streaming down Dean's face, reflecting the stars' light.

"Shhh…" he soothed, rubbing soft circles in the back of Dean's neck to help relieve some tension.

"John?" Caleb inquired after hearing Dean's pained protest.

"He's got at least two broken ribs." John went to run his hand down his face to keep his composure, but as his fingers neared his eyes, he realized they were darker than they should have been… and they were dripping.

"God damn it!" Both Dean and Caleb jumped at this.

"What? What is it?" Caleb rushed out.

"He's bleeding. Bad. We've gotta get him to Jim's and patch him up." John turned sorrowful eyes to his battered son.

"We've gotta move you out of here, kiddo. It's gonna hurt like a bitch, but I need to stay with me, okay?" Dean's whole body tensed at these words. He _really_ didn't want to be touched or moved right now.

John debated on the best way to carry Dean. There was the fireman's carry over the shoulder, or cradling him in his arms. Neither would be good for Dean's ribs, but he didn't have much choice. The longer they sat around, the more Dean bled out.

"Caleb, find Dean's gun for me. We can't afford to have it traced back to us in any way if someone else comes across it." Caleb moved off to where he noticed a metal shape glinting in the darkness.

John felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and swiftly pulled it out. The caller ID said it was Jim.

"Jim? We're heading to your house. Dean's been hurt." With that, he hung up and turned back to his charge. _I'm so sorry, son._

TBC

There's the beginning of hurtDean for everyone who's been waiting for it. How'd I do? More suggestions? Let me know!


	4. There's Been An Accident

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

Warning!!!: Might get a little gory for the next few chapters or so. Dean's in bad shape!!

Jim slowly hung up the phone, afraid to look the eager child before him in the eye.

"Was that my dad? Is everything okay?"

"Sam… there's been an accident of some sort."

"What?! What do you mean?"

"I'm not entirely sure. All is know is your dad and Dean are headed this way, and he said Dean's been hurt. We'll do our best for him, I promise you."

"Oh my god… Dean…"

"Sam…" The pastor tried to place a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, but he jerked away.

"I should have been there for him. I should have been his backup. Why wasn't dad protecting him?!"

"I'm sure he didn't just let it happen, Sam. You can't control everything during a hunt. Sometimes bad things happen."

"He shouldn't have been hunting at all! He's been sick! I should have said something earlier."

"You didn't know this was going to happen, son. Do not blame yourself for this. It's out of your control."

"No, pastor. It's not. He has to be okay. Please let him be okay…" Sam broke down, unable to hide his tears of guilt any longer. The pastor stood from his seat at the table and pulled the boy to him in a hug.

"God will watch out for him."

"Dean doesn't believe in god," Sam choked out between sobs.

"Do you?"

"Yes," he answered honestly.

"Then let's pray for him together."

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"Dean, I need to flip you onto your back. It's going to hurt, but I'll move you again as soon as possible. I can't pick you up from this position."

"'Kay," Dean whispered out through his abused lungs. John moved to grab Dean by the shoulders but released him immediately when he whimpered and flinched.

"John! Watch his shoulder!" Caleb shouted as he was heading back towards them, Dean's gun in his hand.

John was at the end of his nerves. There really was no place to grip his son without causing further injury or pain. In the end, he opted for sliding one of his arms underneath Dean's stomach. He prayed that the boy didn't have broken ribs there as well.

As John eased him off the ground, Dean's head swam again and as his dad accidentally jostled his broken ribs and Dean felt them shift within his body, he lurched forward away from his dad's grasp and began retching violently.

Every constriction brought fresh tears to his eyes and sent flames of pain shooting through his entire body. He began gasping for air once more and his surroundings continued to spin. He was vaguely aware of John coming up behind him and supporting his weak body.

"John… we can't wait any longer. I've heard more of those dogs out there and they're getting closer. We need to move, now."

Without further reservation, John locked an arm around his wheezing child's stomach and hoisted him up into his arms. Dean cried out in pain and struggled against the new position.

"I know it hurts, but you need to relax and hold still. Stay with me son," John repeated the whole jog back to the truck.

When they all reached the truck, John was pleasantly surprised and proud that his son had done as he asked and kept his eyes open. He hadn't passed out again yet. Dean was a fighter till the end. The small bout of happiness that had flooded him quickly left as he used the interior lights to run a quick assessment. Dean was covered in blood.

Knowing there was no comfortable way of sitting Dean up in the truck, he came to the conclusion that he would sit in the bed and lay Dean out flat next to him, leaving Caleb to drive.

Caleb helped easy Dean's shaking form into the bed of the truck and they covered him with their coats to keep him warm. John acted as his seatbelt, and Caleb drove as quickly as he felt was safe to Jim's home.

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Sam stopped his frantic pacing and Jim leapt up from his chair when there was pounding on his front door. The two of them shared a quick, worried glance, then Jim moved forward to answer it.

The minute the door cracked open, John barreled inside with Dean in his arms again, Caleb bringing up the rear. Seeing the state Dean was in, Jim quickly took hold of Sam's shoulder and guided him out of the way.

John gently laid Dean down stomach first on the now vacated kitchen table.

"Jim, I need your med kit. Hurry!" He didn't need to be told twice. He was back in the room, kit in hand in less than a minute, giving it to John.

"Dean! Dad, what happened? Will he be okay?" Sam bombarded his father with questions, his eyes glued to his brother's fragile and bleeding form.

"Not now, Sammy. I need to focus. Jim, could you bring him in another room?" Sam glared at his father, refusing to budge.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know he's okay!"

"Then make yourself useful. Get me some scissors." Sam nodded, glad to be doing something helpful and scampered off in search of shears.

Under the bright kitchen light, Caleb and John finally saw the full extent of the boy's injuries. His shoulder had multiple puncture holes that were still oozing blood and his shirt was torn to shreds, many of which were infused in his back with his drying blood.

Sam handed his father the shears and gently eased his brother's left hand into his own.

"Please don't leave me, Dean. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you," he whispered out near his brother's ear.

Dean fought to console his brother and to inform him that he would never leave him but he lacked the strength. He seemed to be getting weaker by the minute. Instead, he managed to give a feeble wink in his brother direction.

Caleb saw and had to look away for a few moments to get himself under control again. The bond between these boys was the strongest he had ever seen. Even in the amount of pain that the boy was in, his first thought was to comfort his younger sibling.

John cut away Dean's shirt as carefully as possible. The only problem was, once it was cut open, he still couldn't remove it from the deep slices in Dean's back.

"Caleb, I need a pan of warm water and some towels. Jim, I'm going to need holy water and some form of sedative."

Caleb set about heating a pan of water and Jim retrieved the holy water. "John, I don't own any sedatives. I've always been against modern medicine, you know that."

"Shit, I forgot. Alright… uh… do you have any alcohol?"

"Rubbing alcohol?"

"No, drinking alcohol. Strongest stuff you've got." Jim frowned at the idea, but began searching the house for the bottle of scotch he had been given last Easter. He had never had occasion to drink it before, but now seemed as good a time as any to crack it open.

"John, he needs a hospital," Jim tried to persuade.

"We don't have insurance, Jim, and there's no way they're not going to admit him once they see the state he's in. We can't risk being IDed. I know what I'm doing." He took the scotch from Jim and set it near the table. "How's that water comin' Caleb?"

"Almost warm."

"Good." John instructed Jim to stand directly behind Dean and together they eased him onto his uninjured side. Jim held him up against himself, using his own body to brace his broken ribs. Dean groaned at the movement but couldn't fight it.

"Son, I need you to try and swallow as much of this as you can, alright?" Another half nod. John turned Dean's head so it was facing the ceiling and began to slowly pour the burning liquid down his son's throat.

At first contact Dean spluttered and spit it back up.

"John, he's only seventeen for god's sake!" Jim protested.

"And he's in a hell of a lot of pain!" John argued back. "Come on, Dean. Try to get it down…" Using his other hand, John massaged Dean's throat, forcing him to swallow. Dean's panicked eyes darted around the room as though just realizing he was no longer in the woods. He tried to pull his head back away from the burning fluid, but John and Jim tightened their grips around him, Jim feeling as though he were committing a sin.

Between the two of them, they could feel the unnaturally high amount of heat emanating from Dean's skin.

"He's burning up, John."

"I'm aware of that, Jim, thank you. Come on, kiddo. Just a little more…"

"He's been burning up since this morning," Sam chimed in, standing less than a foot away from his brother, determined not to leave his side.

"What's that, Sam?" John inquired, pausing his pouring.

"He's been sick, dad. He was up all last night. He made me promise not to tell you."

"Damn it, Sam! I need to know these things! If he wasn't feeling well, he shouldn't have been on this hunt!!"

"I know that! You should have realized he was sick! He's your son!"

"Don't give me that attitude! I'm trying my best for this family! I'm not a psychic!"

"You don't need to be a psychic! You just need to be a father!!"

"You're really not helping the situation right now, Sam!" Caleb dropped off the pan of heated water and bodily dragged Sam into his bedroom. Sam struggled as hard as he could to get back to his brother, but Caleb locked the door from the outside.

"Please just relax, Sam! I'll let you out when things start to cool down. You shouldn't be watching this anyway."

"Caleb, let me out! Dean needs me!" Sam screamed from the other side of the door, pounding harshly on it.

"Sorry, kid. But picking fights is just slowing us down. We need to help Dean _now_."

Sam gave a final kick at the door in frustration then slid his back down it and let his emotions overwhelm him.

Caleb returned to the table, offering his assistance. John nodded his thanks to the man as he and Jim eased the slightly inebriated Dean back down onto his stomach.

Choking on the liquid had upset his lungs once again and began coughing harshly, each bark literally rattling his bones. John patted him on the upper sides of his ribcage, steering clear of the broken ones and the gouges on his back.

"Caleb, call Bobby. We're going to need another set of hands on this one. He could be here by morning."

TBC

For those of you who are interested, I have also made a few Supernatural videos that I've posted on If you would like to see them, just search for Lind27 and there should be six videos of all lengths and types. Feel free to comment on those as well!!!


	5. Stop Hurting Him!

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

While Caleb phoned Bobby and filled him in, John and Jim proceeded with the patch up job.

Jim lined Dean's sides with towels, partly to cushion him and keep him from moving, and partly because John was about to pour a hell of a lot of water all over the place.

John picked up the heated pan of water and slowly poured it over Dean's back, moistening the fabric and loosening up the places it was infused. Though the water was relatively hot, it still felt cold to Dean's scalding and fevered skin. He shuddered as the water cascaded over his wounds.

"Alright, Dean. Brace yourself kiddo." Dean bit down on his lip and fisted his hands around the edges of the table. As his father began prying the cloth from his wounds, effectively reopening them, Dean whimpered again and tasted his own blood as he bit through his lower lip.

Jim stroked his hand up and down Dean's left arm in a comforting manner. This boy shouldn't be going through this much pain. He didn't deserve it in the least.

Dean was hit with another round of coughs and John paused his ministrations so he didn't make things worse. When Caleb returned once more, all three noticed the small flecks of blood that were coating the table near Dean's mouth.

"Oh god…" John breathed out. Dean's entire body tensed at these words and he tried to glance over his shoulder at his father to find out the reason for his fear. John placed a gentle but firm hand against Dean's head, keeping it pinned to the table. "Don't move, son."

"What? Why?" Dean wheezed out.

John really didn't want to answer this question but felt he owed it to his son. "You might have internal bleeding."

"I'm telling you, John, the boy needs a hospital."

"Bobby knows more about this medical stuff than any of us do. We'll ask him when he gets here. Until then, we've gotta do what we can." Jim and Caleb reluctantly agreed. Anything to help ease some of Dean's pain.

"Okay, I'm going to continue removing your shirt, Dean. I know it's unpleasant, but try not to move." He waited for his son's acknowledgment, then continued. He was almost through.

Jim went back to rubbing soothing strokes down Dean's uninjured arm and Caleb helped to brace his body to keep it from moving involuntarily. There was nothing any of them could do about the boy's constant shaking.

With a relieved sigh, John pulled the tattered shirt from his son's fevered body, increasing his tremors. Dean felt his father's fingers calculatingly prodding each of the long slices down his torn back. The one closest to his spinal cord was particularly deep and Dean hissed as his father brushed over it.

The pastor patted his arm sympathetically.

"These are gonna need to be soaked in holy water and stitched." Dean groaned his disapproval. "Especially this bite wound on his shoulder."

"I'm right here, dad," Dean stated, annoyed with his father talking as though he weren't in the room.

"I really wish you didn't have to be, kiddo. Caleb, did you inform Bobby as to what happened?"

"Yeah, John. He's bringing his extended med kit."

"Thank god. We're gonna need it." John pulled the holy water flask from Jim's supplies. "Jim, Caleb… you guys are going to have to hold him down for me."

"Dad?" Dean's voice shook with more than the cold. John ran his fingers gently through Dean's hair almost as an apology.

"It's going to be okay, Dean. Just hang in there a bit longer for me." Dean nodded and gripped the table tighter, instantly knowing what was coming. His heavy labored breathing picked up pace.

Caleb and Jim moved in, grasping Dean's wrists and the waistband of his jeans to hold him down. John produced a never-been-used first aid bandage and left it rolled in a tight spool.

"Bite down on this, kiddo." He placed it in his son's mouth and waited for him to clamp down on it. Then he unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and without further ado, began to pour it over Dean's shoulder and back. The effect was instantaneous.

Dean began to writhe and scream against his gag as clouds of smoke sizzled off his ravaged skin. Jim and Caleb tighten their grips and John blinked the tears from his eyes. How could he be the cause of his son's excessive pain? Guilt ate away at his heart, threatening to crumble the man.

Sam heard his brother's screams and the tears flowed down his cheeks even faster. He rose to his feet again and resumed his pounding on the door. "Dean? Dean?! Leave him alone!! Stop hurting him, please!"

John heard his other son's voice over Dean's whose screams had now diminished to sobs and felt his strength as a father leaving him. He had tried to be only a soldier, a medic, instead of a father because he could cope better and assess the situation more adequately from an outsider's opinion. But now, he saw his son being tortured by his own hand, and heard his youngest screaming for him to stop as though he were one of the monsters they hunted.

"I can't do this, Jim. I can't cause my son more pain. What do I do?"

Jim understood at once. "Let me take over till Bobby gets here, John. Go see to Sammy. He needs you right now too."

"I can't leave Dean's side."

"John, a father shouldn't have to witness this, okay? We'll take good care of him and call you if you're needed, but right now, you're only going to get in the way if you can't hold it together." Jim placed a comforting hand on John's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Go, John. We've got it from here."

John nodded and handed Jim the holy water. He walked up to his sobbing son's face and used his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheek before leaning in and kissing him gently on the forehead. "I'm sorry, son. Call me if you need me. I won't be far."

Still gagged, Dean could only nod, understanding why his father had to step back but wishing he wouldn't leave him. He had to be brave for his family. He was the glue that held them together. If it wasn't for him, his father and brother would be constantly at each other's throats. He could be a man and tough this out. He just had to get his lungs back in control.

With new resolve, Dean pulled himself together and watched his father turn and walk away. _Take care of Sammy for me until I'm better._

Jim took a facecloth from his supplies and soaked it in peroxide. He gently dabbed at Dean's wounds and was satisfied to see the chemicals react to the bacteria within them. Dean tightened his fingers into a fist and slammed it against the table next to his head in an attempt to combat the pain.

Jim leaned close over his back and blew cool air over the rising foam to help ease the sting. After a few moments, Dean's ragged breathing began to even out slightly, though he was still wheezing.

Caleb tapped Jim's arm and when he had his attention, he pointed to the bite mark on Dean's shoulder that continued to bleed profusely. Jim swallowed hard and handed Caleb a second facecloth who placed it against Dean's wound and put as much pressure as he dared on it.

Dean convulsed and his body bucked off the table trying to throw Caleb off of him to ease the pressure but Caleb held fast.

"I've gotta slow the bleeding, Dean. I'm sorry."

The tears had made Dean's nose stuff up and he began to have trouble breathing around the gag. Why couldn't he just catch a break for once?

Jim noticed immediately and pulled the bandage from between his teeth, noting the deep indents the boy had made in it.

"Son, you could have saved yourself a world of hurt if you had just confessed to being ill." Dean refused to make eye contact with him, knowing his words to be true. Jim sighed in resignation and began to thread a curved needle, special for sutures.

He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, soaked them and the instruments in alcohol, then began the arduous task of repairing Dean's skin.

To the kid's credit, he only flinched at the first puncture.

John reached his sons' bedroom door and could still hear Sam pounding on the other side. "Stand back, Sammy. I'm coming in and I don't want to hit you with the door." After a few seconds, John heard him shift back a few steps.

The eldest Winchester unlocked the door and strode inside, closing it behind him and grabbing a hold of Sam's shirt as he tried to force his way past him and to his brother's side.

"Dad! Let me go! He needs me!"

"He's in good hands, son. You don't need to be watching this."

"He needs one of us out there! We're his family damn it!" Sam began to pound his small fists against his father's chest, trying to break the man's grip on him. Instead, John tightened his grip and used his other hand to grasp Sam's bicep and pull him forward. He wrapped his arms tightly around his angry and scared son, holding him close to his heart.

Sam's tears began to flow even harder as the fight left him and he sank his weight against his father, giving into the embrace.

"Shh… It's going to be alright. Dean's going to be fine. Just wait and see." He continued to whisper soothing words to his youngest until Sam calmed down to hiccups and sniffs.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything before. Dean didn't want me to. He was afraid you'd leave him behind on the hunt."

"It's not your fault, Sammy. I should have realized something was wrong. I should have put my family ahead of the hunt." It caused John even more pain to realize this was the closest he had been to his youngest in years, and he was sorry that it had come at Dean's expense. _No more._

John saw the first few rays of light filtering in through the bedroom window. Moments later he heard the tell-tale rumble of a truck's motor. "Bobby's here."

TBC

Poor Dean! I'm a horrible person!! But you guys love it, right? Haha. Let me know what you think so far and any ideas for what'll happen next!!!


	6. Stand By Me

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

This chapter goes out to DeanBeanWinchester and anyone else that's been sick and could use an update as a get well soon! Thanks again for all the reviews so far! You are all amazing!!!

Bobby burst through the doorway, medical kit in hand. "Where is he? Where's Dean?" he called out to the house at large.

"We're in the kitchen!" Pastor Jim answered back. Bobby bustled into the room, his eyes instantly landing on his friend's eldest son.

"Jesus H. Christ… what in god's name happened to this boy?"

"Black dog attack," Caleb responded shortly. Bobby raked his gaze down along Dean's prone body taking in the damage before reaching out and laying a protective hand on the back of the boy's head. He leaned down and made eye-contact with Dean.

"You hangin' in there son?" A lone tear filled with pain and fear leaked from the corner of Dean's eye. "Don't worry, Dean. I'm gonna take care of ya now." Dean let out a small sigh and Bobby scrunched up his nose in disgust, then glanced up at Jim and Caleb.

"Can someone please tell me in the name of all things holy why this boy reeks of alcohol?"

"We didn't have any sedatives so that scotch was the only thing we had to resort to." The sadness was clear in the pastor's voice.

"Damn it. You mean to say you've been torturing this poor kid without knockin' him out first?"

"We were hoping you'd have some sedatives in your kit," Caleb supplied.

"I used the last of 'em when you broke yer leg in three places a few months back. I haven't been able to break into a hospital with supplies since. The local ones have upped their security after that murderer escaped police custody there."

"So that's a no?"

"That's a no. Who did the stitch job?"

"I did," the pastor admitted.

"Not bad. Let's bandage them up before they get infected."

"Bobby, we can't get his shoulder to stop bleeding," Caleb whispered out, hoping that his soft words wouldn't reach Dean's ears and frighten him.

"Let me see." Caleb lifted the pressure he had been exerting on Dean's shoulder to reveal the deep puncture wounds. As though to prove Caleb right, the blood continued to flow.

"He can't afford to lose much more. I'm still amazed that he's conscious." Jim shook his head sadly.

"Shit on Tuesday's toast. We've gotta cauterize it." The moment these words left Bobby's lips, Dean began trying to force himself up off the table with a renewed surge of strength.

"No! I'm fine! It'll stop!" Dean broke into a coughing fit again.

"Take it easy, son." Bobby used his body weight to push Dean's weak frame back down to the table. "You're just gonna make it worse by moving." Bobby frowned in concern as Dean continued to cough and red flecks coated his right arm and the table where his head lay.

He pulled his stethoscope out from his bag and heated the end with his hands before placing it against Dean's ribcage. "Dean, I need you to try and calm down, then take as deep a breath as you can manage."

Once Dean had his coughing under control he did as he was told. The oxygen rushing into his abused lungs nearly sent him coughing again. Bobby moved to Dean's other side and listened intently.

"He has two broken ribs, Bobby. He may have punctured a lung. He's been having a lot of trouble breathing."

Bobby put the stethoscope around his neck and moved his fingertips carefully over Dean's back. As he reached the small of his back, he felt the two broken ribs shift under the slight pressure he applied. Dean didn't even have the strength to complain.

Bobby moved his fingers to follow the bones from Dean's spine to the sides of his chest. "No. They aren't indented far enough to have punctured a lung. We're missing somethin' else."

"Sammy said that Dean's been feeling sick lately. Maybe he's got the flu or something?" Caleb interjected.

"Get Sam out here. I assume you've got him held up in one of the back rooms?"

"Yeah, he's with John. You sure he can handle seeing Dean like this?"

"Probably not, but I need to know exactly what's been goin' on and knowin' these boys, Sam's the only person who'll know. Dean probably kept it from John."

Caleb nodded and went to get Sam. Bobby continued his exam by feeling Dean's forehead, cheek, and the back of his neck which were all scorching hot. However, as of now he wasn't sure if the fever was from the wounds, an infection, or a disease of some sort.

Jim took over keeping pressure on Dean's shoulder. Bobby began taping gauze over the newly sewn wounds in the boy's back. At least he could keep that from Sammy to some extent. The younger boy came flying around the corner and skidded to a stop at the sight of his brother.

"What did you do to him?" he whispered.

"We're trying to help him, Sammy. But I need your help first. Jim tells me Dean's been sick?"

"Yeah. He didn't sleep at all last night and he's been coughing a lot. He thought I was sleeping but I heard him. He didn't sound good."

"Is that all?"

"He might have thrown up earlier. He ran off to the bathroom but dad and I left soon after to come here, so I don't know if he did or not."

"Alright, Sammy. Thanks for your help. You can head back to your room now," Bobby dismissed.

"I'm not leaving him again! I want to stay by his side." Bobby was going to argue with him but locked eyes with the stubborn young Winchester. He was determined to be with his brother. So be it then. Maybe it would do both of the boys good.

"Fine then. The more help, the better I suppose. Where's John?"

"Here," came a soft voice from just around the corner. John emerged seconds later, resolution in his eyes. If his son could do this, so could he. Bobby nodded to him.

"Let's get this over with then. Caleb, get me my knife."

"What the hell for?" John asked, immediately tensing and striding to his son's side to act as protection.

"He's been bitten, John, and it won't stop bleeding. We have to cauterize it so the virus doesn't spread."

"Oh hell…"

"You're tellin' me. Can you handle this?" John considered the question. He really didn't want to see his son in more pain, but on the other hand, the pain was unavoidable and the least he could do was be there for him.

"I don't have much of a choice." Caleb handed Bobby his knife and a lighter.

"Alright. Get over here then. I'm gonna need you to help brace him. Dean? I need to lift your shoulder a bit, okay? Just relax and don't fight it." Dean nodded. What else could he do?

Bobby gently slid a few fingers under Dean's shoulder and lifted it a few inches from the table. Dean bit back a moan, not wanting to appear weak in front of his brother or father anymore than he already had. Bobby quickly checked to make sure the other side of the bite had clotted, then eased his shoulder back to the table.

"Thank god. Somethin's gone right tonight. The other side of the bite is already healing. We only have to worry about this side. One quick burn, kiddo. I'll finish as soon as I can. Promise."

Sam had gone six shades paler at Bobby's words and his frightened gaze landed on his brother. Like his dad, he was ready to push his feelings aside to be there for Dean. He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked in front of his brother's line of sight.

"I'm here, Dean. You're gonna be okay. You have to be. You're my big brother."

Dean actually managed a smile that combated with the pain in his eyes. "Damn straight." Sam grinned back and reached out his smaller hand to wrap around Dean's right arm.

"Slide over here, Sammy." Bobby maneuvered the boy to the other side of the table, then gently helped Dean turn his head so he was facing away from his wounded shoulder. Sam replaced his hand on his brother's left arm instead. "Just don't look, Dean. It'll be better that way."

Dean's shaking increased noticeably. John stepped forward as well and patted the back of Dean's left leg. "Just let us finish up with the patch job and we'll get you warm."

Bobby stood on Dean's right so that the boy wouldn't see him heating his knife till it glowed red hot. No need to frighten him even more. When the knife was ready, Bobby nodded to everyone else around the table. Collectively, they moved in and braced Dean's body for the pain.

John returned the gag to Dean's mouth to protect his teeth and tongue against his clenching jaw. Sam shut his eyes. He wouldn't leave Dean, but he couldn't bear to watch either.

Bobby quickly lowered the knife and touched it to Dean's torn skin. The sound of sizzling and the sickening smell of burning flesh filled the air. Dean's body began flailing against those trying to hold him down. A scream was ripped from his throat and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.

As Bobby removed the knife approximately fifteen seconds later, Dean had gone still. He quickly checked Dean's pulse and informed the anxious audience that he had merely passed out. He wasn't pleased with his pulse reading however. It was too erratic. Hopefully, now that the wound wasn't bleeding anymore, the boy's heart would be able to play catch up and eventually even out its pace.

Sam opened his eyes when his brother was no longer screaming or fighting against his grip. His stomach did a back flip when he realized Dean wasn't awake anymore. He needed that contact back. He needed to see Dean smirk at him and tell him he was a bitch. He didn't think he could handle this without being able to lock his eyes with his brother's.

Jim saw Sam tense, then still and realized the boy was going into shock. He wasn't ready to be watching this. He was too young, too innocent to see such agony. He released his hold on Dean's right leg, walked around the table, and pulled Sam into a tight hug, desperately praying that it would ground the child and keep his spirit from breaking.

John nodded his appreciation of his friend's care. He had always known that the other men have special places in their hearts for his boys. These men always were and always would be part of his family.

"Finally, the kid's passed out. John, help me lift him to a sitting position so we can wrap his ribs without causing him further pain. Then we can move him to the bedroom where he'll be more comfortable."

John and Bobby supported Dean's limp form as Caleb and Jim wrapped his ribs tightly to keep them from grating on the rest. John and Bobby then moved Dean onto his bed in the back room while Caleb and Jim cleaned up the mess. Sammy pulled himself together once again and brought Bobby's med kit into the other room for easy access.

Looks like tonight was going to be as rough for Dean as the night before.

TBC

You know what to do by now!

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	7. Harder To Breathe

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

Dean was propped up by pillows under his back after much debate. No one wanted to cause him more pain by putting pressure on his wounds, but then again, he seemed to be breathing easier in a semi-sitting position. It also made it easier for Bobby to continue his examination, especially when it came to checking for possible internal damage.

Bobby pulled the heavy blankets up to Dean's waist to start bringing some heat back into his body and decrease the shivers a little, but he made sure Dean's torso wasn't covered just yet.

Very gently, he began prodding Dean's chest, stomach, and lower abdomen searching for any swelling, bruising, or possible internal bleeding. Finding none, he sighed with relief. His medical training and constant research was telling him that Dean most likely had been hit with bacterial pneumonia, which could explain the rust colored fluids Dean kept coughing up.

Again, he listened to the boy's lungs hearing the constant wheezing in his shallow breaths. This wasn't the first time Bobby had been faced with this condition before and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. Luckily, with his previous encounters he had learned what to look for to make a proper diagnosis.

Dean's lips had turned a slight shade of blue, indicating the low levels of oxygen intake, professionally known as cyanosis. He gently took hold of Dean's wrist to find his pulse was rapid and his respiratory rate was nearly off the charts. He was practically panting. The fever of course was obvious, and he needed to get that down and soon.

"Jim? Can you get me a bucket of lukewarm water and some more towels? We need to cool him down before this thing gets any worse." John brought the supplies in and Bobby did an excellent job concealing his surprise.

"I've got it from here, Bobby. Thanks… you know… for everything."

"Any time, John. These boys mean a lot to me. Even this wise ass," he added, indicating Dean. John couldn't help but laugh.

"Pickin' on me behind my back?" a weak voice whispered out from the bed. Both men whirled in Dean's direction.

"Only a little. How're you feelin' kiddo?" Bobby brushed his hand over Dean's spiky hair.

"M fine." John placed the bucket next to Dean's bed and sat down near his knees.

"Bullshit you are. Now's not the time to be macho, Dean. If something doesn't feel right, you need to tell us now." Dean huffed and rolled his eyes at his seemingly overprotective parent.

"Just a little sore is all. 'S hard to breath." He coughed again and Bobby easily heard the unmistakable rattle coming from deep within Dean's chest.

"Anything we can do about that, Bobby?" John turned almost pleading eyes to his friend.

Bobby scratched his head. "If we could get 'im to a hospital he'd need chest X-rays and blood tests to determine the extent of the disease, but that's not an option in this case, is it?" As John dropped his eyes to the ground, Bobby quickly continued. "Normally, a Bronchoscopy and, if needed, a thoracentesis would be done."

"A what and a what?" Dean asked, sounding slightly nervous.

"A bronchoscopy is when a small camera at the end of a flexible tube is threaded down yer throat to take samples or a biopsy." Dean grimaced at the thought.

"And the other one?" He was afraid to ask.

"A thoracentesis is only done to relieve the pressure by extracting some of the fluid using a needle. I hate to say it, but that might be our only option at this point." Dean went a few shades whiter, if that were even possible. "I need more equipment to do any of this safely." The frustration in Bobby's voice was hard to miss. "Caleb!"

Caleb came running into the room, believing something to be wrong. "What?! What happened?!"

"Nothin' yet. I need you to try to steal some med tools from the closest hospital you can find."

"Such as?"

"Tools for a Bronchoscopy if you can find them, an IV bag with fluids, an IV cannula, and any freakin' sedatives you can find."

"I'm on it." Caleb turned on his heel and headed out to his car. Dean subconsciously pulled his sheets higher as though to protect himself as well as offer a bit more privacy.

This had certainly been an embarrassing ordeal for him as of yet. Plus he was still shaking. "Not so fast there, slick. We've gotta lower your fever." John dunked one of the towels into the bucket of water and wrung it out.

"I think I can handle that dad," Dean stated, blushing furiously at the idea of his father bathing him at the age of seventeen.

"The less movement you make the better, son," Bobby interjected. As John tugged the blankets back down and began rubbing the cool towel over Dean's flushed skin, Jim and Sam came walking in to check on him. Dean was so uncomfortable he refused to make eye contact with any of them.

"He's doin' better, now everyone out. Give these boys some privacy." He ushered them into the kitchen, leaving John and Dean alone.

After a few seconds the silence became too much for either of them. John broke it first. "You gave us quite a scare there, son."

"I'm sorry, dad. I didn't realize I was that bad."

"Is that what slowed you down on your laps?" Dean sensed John's inner turmoil and guilt.

"A little, but please don't blame yourself, dad. It was my fault. I should have said something. I just really wanted to go on the hunt."

"I know why you did it, kiddo. As much as I don't like you putting yourself in danger, I'm proud of you. You showed a lot of strength and courage tonight." Dean beamed.

He started to drift off, relaxed by his father's gentle motions and his exhaustion from the events of the night. He didn't even fight against his father's hand on his forehead. In fact, he was perfectly okay with being treated like a kid as long as no one knew that.

He jerked back to awareness as he felt strong hands on his belt. His eyes flew open and filled with a fevered confusion as they locked on his dad.

"Just relax, Dean. You're fever hasn't gone down yet so we've gotta get these jeans off and cool your skin down." The blush was back. Thank god he wore boxers today!

Dean's shivers increased ten fold as John pulled back the blankets and slid his jeans off.

"D-dad… 's co-old."

"I know, kiddo. I'm sorry. Try not to think about it." Dean's teeth were chattering. John was afraid they had missed something. Something must have gotten infected. "Bobby?" He kept his voice as low as possible to not startle Dean, but loud enough so that Bobby could hear him a few rooms over. Bobby was there seconds later.

"John? What's wrong?"

"I dunno. His fever isn't going down. Did we miss something? Does he have an infection?" Bobby felt Dean's forehead, cheek, neck, and chest, easily confirming that the boy was still burning up. He didn't miss the shaking either.

"A fever is to be expected with this sort of thing. Let's have a look at that shoulder just in case. That's the only place that has a possibility of getting infected. Jim took really good care of the claw marks. Maybe we waited too long to cauterize it."

John slid in behind Dean to give Bobby better access to the back of his shoulder. Their friend carefully peeled off the bandaging and examined the wound. The surrounding flesh was still red and irritated looking for the burn, but that was to be expected. There were no red lines around it or discoloration to suggest an infection.

"Looks alright. He's been through a lot. I'm sure his system's a little screwy by now. We'll get an IV in 'im when Caleb gets back."

Bobby retrieved his old fashioned thermometer and placed it under Dean's tongue. "I know it's hard for you, blabber mouth, but try to keep your trap shut around this for a few minutes." Dean glared at him but did as he was told. Leave it to Bobby to take Dean's place in using humor to hide the intensity of a situation.

Neither of the men left, much to Dean's disgruntle. John remembered well when Dean was younger and had a high fever but wanted to go outside and play in the snow with Sammy. Dean had removed the thermometer behind John's back and cooled it off a little but was caught before he could return it to his mouth.

His dad knew him too well. Dean knew he was burning up at a dangerous level and if he wasn't being babysat, he would have done the same thing he had as a child so as not to alarm his family more than he had to.

Bobby checked his watch, then removed the device. "Damn. 103.5."

"What can I say? I'm just a hot guy." Dean smirked. John had to admit he was glad to see his son behaving more like himself again.

"Wise ass. This isn't the kind that brings girls flockin'."

"Only cause I'm not in a hospital surrounded by hot nurses."

"I think yer damn lucky to have my mug to look at." John chuckled at that one. Dean looked disgusted.

"So what do we do? Ice bath?"

"Hell no!" Dean struggled against his father's grip, but John just tightened it to prevent Dean from hurting himself further.

"Only as a last resort. Ice water could shock his system and send him into seizures." Dean's eyes widened and he stopped struggling.

Caleb chose that moment to come striding in, supplies in hand.

"Thank god… tell me you've got some strong drugs in there, dude," Dean pleaded.

"Sorry, kiddo. Best I could find was muscle relaxants and ibuprofen. But I got everything else." Dean swallowed hard at the long wires and sharp instruments held in the man's grasp.

John felt him tense against him and began rubbing the back of his neck to relieve some tension. He felt Dean jump at first contact. His son was scared and it broke his heart.

"Alright. Let's get that IV set up and get some pain killers in him." Bobby took control again and began bustling around the room. He pulled a hat stand over to the side of Dean's bed and hung the IV bag on it.

"Dean, yer gonna feel a little pinch…" Dean watched as Bobby inserted the needle into the back of his hand.

"Ow." Bobby taped it in place and released the fluids. "What is that stuff?"

"A little cocktail that'll help yer immune system cope. Now let's see about those crappy lungs of yers."

"They already feel better." Dean winced as a few coughs escaped him.

"That's just the fear talkin'. Don't worry, son. We'll get you back on yer feet with as little pain as possible. Just maybe some discomfort."

"Such as?" Bobby held up the long thin tube. "This, thankfully, is a flexible fiberoptic scope. It'll let me see the condition yer lungs are in. However, if we had a sedative, I would have preferred the rigid bronchoscope because it can be used to such the fluids out. This one can't."

"So how's it gonna help?"

"We're going to find where the fluid is building up, then use a long needle to extract it."

"Lovely."

"Ok, Dean. I'd give ya some pain killers now but since I'm not a licensed medic, it could increase the risk of bleeding."

"So what exactly are you going to do with that?" Dean eyed the tube. Bobby grinned evilly.

"Open wide…"

"You're gonna stick that thing down my throat?"

"Unless you want us to go another way?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Alright then. First, take these." Bobby handed Dean two muscle relaxant pills.

"What for?"

"It's the closest thing we have to sedatives and it'll relax your throat so we won't hit much interference." Dean swallowed the pills. "Now those things are pretty strong, so you might feel as though you're almost paralyzed, but don't worry. It won't last more than an hour or so."

"How long is this going to take?" The hint of fear was back in Dean's voice.

"We'll find out, won't we?" Dean groaned and prepared himself.

TBC

Any other ideas? I think I'm getting to the end of the torture for this poor kid. He can't take much more!! But if I missed something, let me know and I'll try to work it in!

Poor Dean is going to go through hell in the next chapter, but don't worry… after that he'll be on the long road to recovery!


	8. Brothers In Arms

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

Warning!! This chapter is a bit graphic. Not for the weak!! Tread carefully!! Lots of medical terms and an uncomfortable procedure. Read at your own risk!

John slid out from behind his son and Bobby removed the pillows. Together, they lowered Dean until he was lying flat on his back. The boy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out at the pressure on his torn back.

Bobby tilted Dean's head back at an awkward angle as though preparing to give him CPR.

"You're not gonna kiss me, are ya?" Dean actually sounded worried. Bobby chuckled.

"Sadly for you, no. I've gotta clear your airways as much as possible. I know it's uncomfortable but it's for the best."

"Great…"

"Still hangin' in there?"

"Looks like. Where's Sammy?"

"Still in the kitchen with Jim. Why?"

"No reason." Bobby knew exactly what the boy asked for. He wanted his brother by his side for comfort. Without having to be asked, Bobby nodded at John and he went out to get him.

Bobby patted Dean's uninjured arm. "You're going to be fine, son. Don't you worry." Dean nodded, afraid to open his mouth. "I've just gotta check one thing before we begin."

"What's that?"

"Open that trap of yers for me for a sec." Bobby pulled on latex gloves from his kit and brought over a tongue depressor. He gently pried Dean's jaw open because the boy was too scared to do it himself.

Bobby slowly inserted the depressor into Dean's mouth, all the way to the back of his throat and moved it around, touching all the sides. Dean gagged slightly but quickly controlled it. He pulled the instrument back out and allowed Dean to close his mouth again. The boy shot him a quizzical look.

"Excellent. With the muscle relaxant and also partially due to the illness, your gag reflex has been impaired. That will help with the procedure. Can't have you chokin' on me."

Sam came striding into the room at that point and made a beeline for his brother's bedside.

"How're you feelin' man?"

"A little weirded out by Bobby's excitement over gag reflexes." Sam was clearly confused but assumed it was just another joke for Dean to hide behind. He could sense how scared his brother really was and moved closer to him.

Sam threaded his fingers through Dean's. Dean's panic increased a little when he tried to squeeze Sammy's hand in comfort and found he could barely move his fingers. Bobby picked up on his fear.

"It's alright, Dean. Remember what I said earlier? The muscle relaxant will make it difficult for you to move." Sam tightened his grip instead. John returned with Jim close behind. They all crowded around Dean's bed for support.

Dean felt like a subject in an experiment. "Could you guys back off unless I need somethin'? It's gettin' a little crowded in here." Bobby winked at Dean to show he read his anxiety. Though he couldn't show it now, Dean was grateful.

"Now… let's get this over with." Bobby unwrapped the tubing and sat on Dean's bed, opposite of Sam. "I know you're gonna want to, but try not to cough while this is taking place. Inhale for me and hold it."

Bobby held Dean's jaw in place so he couldn't jerk his head away, and when he inhaled, he slowly threaded the tube down the back of his throat. Dean began to gag mostly due to the psychological fact that you try to protect yourself when something foreign tries to get down your throat. He began to panic, feeling as though he were choking. A tear slid down his cheek.

"Relax, Dean! Just relax. Don't think about it. It's not that bad. Just focus on holding your breath. Tighten your stomach muscles if you can. It'll help ease the gagging feeling."

Dean got control over his breathing again and held it as commanded. He also attempted to contract his abs but the relaxants prevented him from succeeding. Sam moved in for the rescue. He reached over with his unoccupied hand and brushed the tear off his brother's cheek.

"Dean, remember when we were kids and dad was working that hunt in Dakota? I think it was a werewolf…" Dean locked his eyes with his brother, focusing his mind on Sam's words as a distraction.

"There was a huge snow storm and dad couldn't get home to us for three days. I was scared, but you took control easily. You said everything would be okay and took me outside to play in the snow. We built the biggest fort ever, which, now looking back on it, must have really hurt your arms seein' as you did all the work. I was too busy making my own little arsenal of snowballs when you weren't looking."

Bobby and John smiled. These boys truly were amazing. They drew comfort from each other so easily, and they were always there for support. It seemed as though they each had an alert beacon and when it went off, it was like the bat signal. When one of them was stressed or in pain, the other instantly knew it and was by his side. No bond was stronger.

As Dean started to relax, Bobby proceeded, carefully and slowly guiding the tubing down Dean's throat to his lungs. He watched in the viewer, using the small light at the end of the camera to show him the way.

With his hands preoccupied with the instrument, he knew he needed help. "John," he whispered, taking care not to interrupt Sam's soothing ramblings. "I need you to listen to his lungs and figure out which one sounds worse." John nodded and took the stethoscope out of Bobby's kit again.

"You were so proud of that fort because you built it by hand, big enough to fit both of us in it. You turned to me with a goofy grin on your face and that's when I started to barrage you with my snowballs."

Trying to be unobtrusive, John gently placed the other end against Dean's left side and occasionally moved it around, listening to all the different compartments in his lungs to figure out where the fluid was being captured. Then he did the same to the right.

"The majority of the noise is coming from Dean's right lung, lower lobe." Bobby acknowledge this and moved the tube accordingly. A few minutes later, he found the fluid, and there was lots of it. No wonder the kid was having trouble breathing.

"Dean?" Bobby broke through Sam's recollection only because he needed Dean's attention. "I found what we needed so I'm going to pull back out now. When I say go, slowly inhale as much as you can and then push it back out again. We're gonna do this just like a ventilator."

Bobby guided the tube back out of Dean's lung so as not to damage anything internally, then gave the word once he reached the boy's trachea. Dean filled his lungs and then forced the air back out making himself go into another coughing fit. As he exhaled, Bobby slid the tube out of his throat.

Dean moved his head to a more comfortable angle and continued to cough. Some more of the fluid came back up again, but not enough. Dean was struggling to breath again.

"Sit him up!" Bobby ordered and John dove in for the rescue. He grabbed Dean's good arm and wrapped his other hand around his child's side, easily lifting him into an upright position. Sam tightened his grip on his brother's hand and wrapped his other hand around Dean's upper arm, both for comfort and support.

John wanted to pat Dean on the back to help him expel the fluids but knew he couldn't because of the stitches. Instead, he was forced to watch his child struggle in pain. He resorted to his only form of comfort by wrapping one hand around Dean's neck to massage it, and placing the other over his chest.

"Just breathe, Dean. Don't fight it. Easy… Breathe with me… In and out… In and out… That's it… You're doin' good." John felt like a cheerleader, or maybe like he was back in a lamaze class.

Bobby was readying the IV cannula which to Dean just looked like a scary needle the size of a straw. He began to hyperventilate when he saw it.

"No, Dean! Relax, son! Look at me! Ignore what Bobby's doing and focus on breathing."

Sam squirmed his way in front of Dean to get his attention back. John slid to the left side, giving Bobby room to work on the right.

"Dean? It's okay! It's okay!" Sam tried everything to get Dean's attention off of Bobby, but his big brother couldn't keep his eyes off of the needle. Sam eventually straddled Dean's knees so he was directly in front of him and grasped his head in his hands, forcefully turning his head towards him. "Focus, dean! Do you remember the first hunt I was allowed to go on with you guys and I got thrown to the ground? I tore my knees up pretty bad and dad was pissed that I didn't get a shot off first…"

"I wasn't pissed at that! I was afraid you were hurt worse than you were and I was pissed at myself for letting it happen!" John interrupted. Sam glared at him for breaking his concentration, then continued when John was silent again.

"Anyways… you were the one that took care of me. Dad killed the vampire, and you carried me to the car. You patched me up and got me to stop crying by telling jokes."

"John, hold his arms above his head so I can get by the shoulder blade," Bobby said quietly. John took hold of Dean's wrists and wary of his hurt shoulder, easily lifted them above his head. Dean's breath hitched and a small whimper escaped his parted lips as his shoulder was moved.

Sam picked up speed in his story, determined to keep Dean focused on him. "You were always there for me, Dean. I don't know how you managed it, but you never let me down. Not even when that bully took a swing at me in third grade. You scared the crap out of him, man…"

Bobby quietly slid in behind Dean and began figuring out the proper place to puncture… find the midclavicular line (halfway on the collarbone), move down two inches at least to clear the scapular tip… find the site between two ribs…

He made a small mark with a medical form of a marker, then reached back into his kit for an iodine swab to clean the surrounding skin. He talked himself through the procedure so he didn't have to think about who he was doing it to. _Clean the surrounding area starting from the center and working your way outward in a spiral motion…_

Bobby lined up three fluid collecting bottles next to his leg for easy reach. He wished to god that he had anesthesia to help make this less painful for the poor kid. He'd been through enough already. All he could do was get this over with as quickly as possible and hope it helped in the end.

He deftly put the rest of the collecting apparatus together and nodded at John to show he was ready. Sam saw as well and put all his weight on his brother's legs to help hold him in place while continuing his story of Dean's childhood heroics.

John increased his grip on Dean's wrists. Jim stepped forward and slid his hands around the boy's ribcage, helping to stabilize him in case he jerked when the needle pierced his skin. Caleb slid next to John and soothingly ran his fingers through the boy's hair.

Dean was so tense John was afraid the muscle relaxants had worn off already and that his son might hurt himself like this, but there was nothing he could do to calm the boy. He felt like freaking out himself when he saw the size of the needle. Tears began to stream down Dean's cheeks as he tried with all his might to focus on Sam's voice only.

Sam returned his hands to Dean's face and held it steady, locking their gazes as he kept up his soothing speech.

When everyone was in place to keep Dean from struggling, Bobby began. He focused on the mark he made and pressed the needle to it, breaking the skin and firmly applying pressure to move it deeper. He kept his hands as steady as possible, though he felt as though his entire body was shaking with the stress. This was not a procedure you messed around with.

Dean cried out and tried to move away from the pain in his back but everyone's hands doubled in their grips. Once Bobby had breached his lung, he began to extract the fluid.

Three vials and lots of grown men tearing up, Bobby was finally finished. He quickly but carefully extracted the needle and bandaged it, placing pressure on the puncture site to stem the bleeding.

Dean had tried his best to keep himself together in front of his brother but he was overtaxed and exhausted. He let his tears flow freely. Jim and Caleb left for the kitchen again when they were sure they would no longer be needed.

Once Bobby felt it was safe to release the pressure on Dean's back, he did so and backed away to give the small family some time together. "Get some rest, kiddo. You'll feel a hell of a lot better in the morning."

John eased Dean's arms back down by his sides, wincing as he saw the new bruises he had made there in his haste to keep Dean from moving. He slid behind him again and kissed his head.

Sam leaned forward and pulled his brother into a hug, careful of his wounds. "You did real good, Dean. I'm proud of you." Dean used what was left of his strength to hug his brother back. Then all his adrenaline left him and he slumped against his dad.

After a few moments of holding his son in his arms, John slid back out from behind him, grabbed the pillows that had been placed on the floor earlier, and gently laid Dean down upon them. He wrapped the blankets loosely around his fragile form in hopes that it would help lessen his shaking.

"Come on, Sammy. Let him get some sleep."

"I'm not leaving him, dad. You go ahead. I promise I won't wake him up." John thought it over and decided he didn't have the heart to argue. Man, he needed a really strong drink right now.

"Alright. Goodnight, kiddo. I'm proud of both of you. You went through a lot today. I swear to you I won't let something like this happen again. My family comes first." Sam gave him a forgiving smile and John kissed him on the forehead before heading out the door and closing it behind him.

Sam snuggled down next to his brother and wrapped his arm around him. "I'll protect you, Dean. Just like you always did for me. I won't let anyone hurt you anymore. You just get better now, okay? I love you bro."

With that, Sam closed his eyes and within minutes, both boys were sleeping peacefully.

TBC

That's it! I can't hurt him anymore without falling apart myself!! Our boy has to heal!! From now on, it'll be lighter and a bit more joking and fooling around. After all, Dean wouldn't be himself if he weren't being a "wise ass."


	9. Road to Recovery

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

The next morning, the men quietly filed into the boys' room to check on them, finding both of them nestled in each other's arms contentedly. Each one drawing on the comfort of the other. It warmed the adults' hearts.

As much as they wanted to leave them to their peaceful dreams, the boys needed food and Bobby needed to make sure Dean was indeed improving after everything he'd been through.

There were glad to find a bit more color in Dean's face. The boy sighed and still fast asleep, tightened his grip around his brother as though sensing the other people in the room. He was back to his over-protective self.

Sam didn't seem to mind. Though also asleep, he burrowed into his brother's arms as though he were a baby bird beneath its mother's wings. John had raised them well. A small crease of pain crossed over Dean's face as he moved, but it smoothed back out just as quickly as it came.

Nevertheless, he was due for more medication. John took the initiative in rousing his sons. He had learned from previous mistakes not to try and tug Sammy away from his brother, just as he knew not to wake either of them from one of their violent nightmares that plagued them since early childhood.

John ran his fingers through his eldest son's hair, earning a small groan and a twitch. "Hey, kiddo… Can you wake up for me?"

"Ten more minutes…" Dean mumbled and tried to hide under the blankets, making the other men laugh quietly.

"Rise and shine, Beauty Queen. Your kingdom awaits…"

"Does my kingdom serve breakfast?" Finally, Dean's beautiful green eyes stared at half mast back at John. John smirked.

"You'll have to ask Bobby that. You know I suck at cooking."

"No kidding."

"Gotta get your brother up first."

"Sammy? Hey little man… Wakey wakey..." Dean gently shook his brother's shoulder until Sam shot awake yelling for him.

"Dean!! Dean, are you okay?!"

"Whoa! Easy killer! I'm fine. I wasn't going to kick the bucket just cause you got some shuteye. Sheesh."

Sam blushed a little at his worried outburst. Dean ruffled his hair to show him it was okay and that he was okay. Sam wrapped his arms around his fragile brother's skinny chest.

"I'm okay, Sammy. I'm okay," Dean whispered in his ear, holding his brother close until he seemed to calm down a little.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Bobby stepped forward but didn't move to pull the boys away from each other. "Sammy, why don't you get some breakfast with Jim and let me check your brother out?"

"Why Bobby, I didn't know you cared. But sorry, dude. I'm just not interested in guys."

"Well I'll get right on growin' a pair of boobs then. Honestly, you should try thinkin' with yer upstairs brain a little more often." Dean smirked. Yep, he was back.

Jim took Sam into the kitchen and John sat on the edge of the bed keeping a close eye on his son and listening to Bobby's assessments.

Dean sighed and went to sit up but hissed in pain and Bobby quickly placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back down. "Not so fast, Tiger. One step at a time."

Bobby checked Dean's temperature (99.8- not too shabby), blood pressure (acceptable), heart beat (a little fast, but a definite improvement), and listened to his lungs. He still heard a bit of crackling, but nothing like yesterday. Dean was definitely doing better, though he was probably in a world of hurt right now.

Bobby handed him a glass of water and some painkillers and antibiotics. Dean was not pleased with the horse pills. 

"Oh come on Bobby! These are enormous!"

"Either swallow them willingly or I'll shove them down yer throat for ya."

"Point taken." Grimacing, Dean forced the pills down his aching throat. Bobby carefully removed the IV drip now that Dean was conscious enough to eat and swallow medication on his own.

John and Bobby eased Dean into a sitting position, but since Dean was still very weak, John sat in front of him and allowed his son to rest his head against his shoulder for support. Bobby checked all of Dean's wounds, applied specific ointments, and bandaged them with clean gauze.

"I've gotta check yer ribs again, son. Just breathe through it." As Bobby gently pushed against Dean's broken ribs he took in a sharp intake of breath but then forced himself to breathe normally through it. "That's it… Keep breathing…" Bobby encouraged.

John protectively wrapped his arms around Dean's upper back and head wishing he could do something to take away his child's pain.

"Well, they're certainly going to be tender for some time and you've got some nice bruises along yer back, not to mention the gouges… but overall, it looks like yer gonna be alright."

"Wonderful. Can't I put a shirt on now or are you guys enjoying the view a little too much?"

"You really are full of yourself, aren't you?" Bobby chuckled as he gently but securely rewrapped his ribs. Dean winced the first time around but quickly recovered. John and Bobby both knew that Dean thought very little of himself if at all and that his words were said to comfort them. Dean was always thinking about everyone else first.

John found a reasonably clean shirt in Dean's duffle by his bed and handed it to his son who, with a little help from both men around him, managed to pull it on. "Better?"

Dean smiled at his dad. "Warmer." John drapped a light blanket around Dean's shoulders and rubbed his hands softly up and down his eldest son's arms to help him warm up. "So let's go get some breakfast. I think I could keep somethin' down finally."

John moved to help his son up but Bobby stopped him.

"Uh, John? Could you leave us alone for a few minutes?" John frowned a little in concern, then thought better of it and released Dean's arm.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." Bobby nodded and turned back to Dean who quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What's up?"

Bobby sighed. "You shouldn't be leaving that bed for the next few weeks. Yer body's been through hell and back and you shouldn't overtax yourself yet. It's got a long way to go to recover."

"Weeks? Come on Bobby…"

"Don't _come on Bobby _me. Doc knows best."

"You're not a real doctor." Bobby glared at him.

"Fine! I won't move unless I need to use the bathroom."

"I'm not even sure that's a good idea right now."

"You got another option?" Bobby stared hard at Dean as though trying to convey his message without having to say the words. It didn't take much for Dean to catch his drift.

"Oh hell no, Bobby. Don't you even think about it!"

"Believe me, kiddo, I'd rather not."

"You are not sticking any other kinds of tubing into me so just get that thought out of your head right now." Bobby couldn't bring himself to cause the kid anymore stress.

"Fine. We'll see how it goes. But don't you _dare _let me catch you out of bed without assistance, ya hear me?" Dean sighed with relief.

"Yes, sir."

"Alright. I'll bring you some food. Yer gonna need it."

Bobby put together the blandest spread Dean had ever eaten. Needless to say, he wasn't very pleased.

"Come on, Bobby. Where's the cheeseburger?"

"You really think yer stomach could handle that right now?" Bobby knew Dean was just joking to make himself sound more normal. At Bobby words however, Dean turned a slight shade of green as his stomach revolted at the thought.

"Ugh… maybe not."

"Give it time. You don't just get over bacterial pneumonia overnight ya know."

"Why the hell not? Seriously… something this sucky should totally end after the first twenty-four hours. It's only fair."

"I agree with ya kiddo. Not my rules. So how's the breathin'?"

"Better, but I wish you didn't have to spear me in the back to get it that way."

"I wish I could have too. Believe me, no one enjoyed _that_. Ready to lay back down now and get some rest?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Bobby pulled the pillows out from behind Dean's back and eased him down again, now that he was finished with his light breakfast.

Halfway down, Dean's jaw locked in pain and he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his stomach.

"Dean?! What's wrong?" Bobby stopped moving him and held him still.

"Ah! Stomach…" he ground out between his clenched teeth.

"Okay, okay… Easy son… Let me have a look…" Bobby lowered Dean the rest of the way and then slowly pushed Dean's knees back down away from his stomach. "You've gotta move yer hands, Dean."

Dean didn't budge.

"Oh for heaven's sake…" Bobby took Dean's wrists into one of his much bigger hands and held them above Dean's head. Dean grunted in pain and disapproval at being outmatched so easily.

Bobby slid his other hand up Dean's shirt and placed it on his abdomen, massaging gently and adding pressure to specific places. Dean's abs tensed as Bobby reached his lower abdomen.

"Bobby!"

"It hurts right there?"

"Ugh… yeah." Bobby massaged that spot until he felt Dean relaxing beneath him. "That better?" A small voice sounded from the doorway.

"Let him go! What are you doing to him?!" Sam ran in and shoved Bobby away from Dean, then turning back to check on him.

"No Sammy… I'm okay! Bobby was just trying to help."

"What happened?" Sam placed his smaller hand on Dean's stomach where he saw Bobby's expecting to find the problem.

"Good question. What was that, Bobby? I'm not pregnant, am I?"

"If you were, I'm outta my league. But no. Abdominal pain is a possible side effect of what you have. It was probably a little stronger due to yer other injuries as well as you starting to get normal food into yer stomach again."

"Then let's not do that again for a while, okay?"

"Hey, you want to eat baby food, that's fine with me. Sammy here can feed it to ya."

"It's _Sam_. Only he can call me that," Sam stated, indicating his brother.

"Didn't mean to step on anyone's toes. Sam it is. Now, _Sam_... you're in charge of keepin' yer brother in that bed until further notice, understand?"

Dean groaned. "_Sooo_ not cool." Sam nodded accepting his responsibilities and planning on carrying them out to the fullest.

"You choose now of all times to listen to orders?"

"When it comes to your heath you're damn right I am."

"Great. Then want to get a TV or somethin' in here to keep me entertained for a while? I need my boob-tube Sammy."

"No, Dean. What you need is sleep. If I have to knock you out in order to get it, I will."

"Damn. You're a bitchy Florence Nightingale, aren't you?" Sam crossed his arms and shot a pointed look at Dean, clearly saying he meant business. Bobby chuckled and headed for the door.

"Bobby! Don't leave me here like this, man! He's going to drive me mental!" Dean called after him.

"I think you're in pretty good hands actually. I'm gonna go find me a cheeseburger." Dean groaned again as his stomach revolted for the second time. "You've still got a lot of healin' to do, young man. But you're tough enough to stick it out. Sleep tight!"

With that, Bobby left to inform everyone of Dean's improving condition, leaving Sam to tuck his brother in like a mother hen. What Bobby didn't tell Dean was that he would be forcing him to do exercises in bed as well as therapeutic coughing to keep him in shape.

What do you think? One more chapter, or should I end it here? I'm running out of ideas! Anyone have anymore?


	10. Author's Note

Author's Note:

Hey everyone!! Thank you all _soooo_ much for your help so far and for sticking with me!!! You're all amazing!!! But now I need more help!! I need to know whether you guys want me to draw out Dean's illness by making his stomach problem into a larger issue or if you're ready for me to draw it to a close and have him heal? I'll do whatever the majority decides!!!


	11. Common Sense and Nonsense

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

Thanks to everyone who voted!!! I tried to satisfy everyone with this chapter and hopefully will continue to do so in however many I can squeeze in before it ends! Please let me know if I succeeded!!!!

"How is he?" John grilled Bobby the moment he entered the kitchen.

"Not sure yet. He's breathin' better and his cuts are healin', but he has abdominal pain."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"Not sure yet, John. We'll just have to wait it out I guess. See if anything comes of it."

John turned away in anger. "He shouldn't have kept it from me! He could've gotten himself killed!"

"You know why he did it. That's how you raised the boy."

"Are you blaming this on me?!" John got up in Bobby's face.

"Blame can't be given to one specific person in this case. Everyone played a part, but it was the beast that did the most damage."

"If he wasn't sick, he could have outrun the damn thing. He _should've_ made it to the car. He _should _have gotten away. He should've kept a hold on his damn gun!"

"I don't know exactly what happened out there, John. I wasn't there. But there's nothin' we can do about it now. What's done is done, and you need to get out of my face right this goddamn moment."

Jim quickly stepped in when John refused to back down.

"That's enough! Both of you! This isn't helping anyone. It doesn't matter who's to blame but no one better blame that poor boy in there. He was just trying to live up to hunter standards. He wanted to be like you, John."

"Like _me_?! I don't have a freakin' death wish! If I wasn't up to a hunt, I would hold off rather than risk my life and everyone else's!"

"That's a damn lie and you know it," Bobby disrupted. "You've always put the demon in front of everything else, including yourself and your kids!"

"Do _you_ have a death wish, Bobby? Cause if you keep pushing me, I'll fulfill it for you."

"Just stating the facts. If you can't swallow 'em, spit 'em out."

"I _love _my kids."

"Be nice if you showed them that once in a while!"

"STOP IT!!!!"

All heads turned to the youngest Winchester who stood just inside the kitchen, tears in his eyes and fury all over his face.

"Sam, I…" Bobby tried.

"No! I don't want to hear it! Dean's trying to sleep and all you guys can do is scream at each other about whether you give a shit about us or not!"

"That's not what…"

"Save it dad. If you can't be here to help Dean, then just go." With that, Sam turned and walked straight back into his brother's room and sat down by his side, tears finally spilling down his red cheeks.

John gaped at the place where Sam used to be. Bobby placed a hand over his mouth, horrified at what had just happened.

"Congratulations men. Once again, you've managed to have a child put in the middle of an argument."

"What do you mean _once again_?" John demanded.

"Oh, John. You're so blind sometimes. When you and Sam argue, which is practically all the time, who is the one that sooths things over in the end? Who's the one that is forced to become the adult and has been since the age of four?"

"Dean…" John rubbed at his tired eyes. "You're right. My boys shouldn't have to play the peacekeepers. We're the adults. We should start acting like it."

"That's more like it. Now are you going to check on them or am I?"

"I'll go." John sent one final glare at Bobby, then headed quietly into the boys' room, careful to not wake Dean.

His heart stopped as his eyes fell on his wounded soldier. _No. My eldest son,_ he berated himself. _He's just a boy, not a marine._ For the second time that day, he felt the urge to break down, something that prior to yesterday he had never allowed. He had failed as a father. _No more._

He walked quietly to Dean's bedside, sending an apologetic glance at Sam who, after a moment, nodded his acceptance. John's heart began to flutter again with hope that maybe he hadn't failed just yet. Maybe he was given a second chance. He didn't know if he really deserved it, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He'd take what he could get.

John reached a shaking hand (which was usually rock steady due to his hunting skills) out for his son, to make any connection he could. Just to know he was still alive. To know that his son hadn't given up on him yet. God, the shit he put his kids through over the years…

They were still just boys. Sam just made it into his teens. Dean was still four years shy of being able to drink. _And yet we just poured half a bottle of scotch down his throat._ This was no life for young boys. Though he acknowledged this, John also knew that there was nothing he could do about it. Mary's killer had to die, end of story.

His boys were all he had left. His only reminders of the beautiful wife he had fallen in love with so many years ago. Dean especially. Dean had Mary's eyes. But Dean's eyes weren't open. It his mind, it was John's fault they were closed. If John's eyes had been open, he would have seen that his child was sick. He would have been a real parent.

John failed his children in every way possible when it came to parenting. But he succeeded as a drill sergeant. That's what he was best at. That's what he knew. And he clung to the profession like a lifeline. It's what got him through the crisis he called a life. It was the only connection he made with his children.

He placed his hand gently over Dean's, rubbing his calloused thumb over his son's still childishly smooth skin. The boy didn't so much as twitch. John had taught him better than that. He had taught him to wake at the drop of a feather, to protect his brother at all costs. But it was Dean who needed protecting now. Dean who needed to sleep peacefully without having to worry about the dangers that lurked in the dark. _I will protect you now, son. You just get better for me. Please…_

John couldn't break away his gaze from his son. Dean was so still with his right hand across his stomach and his left behind his head, under his pillow. It broke John's heart knowing that his once innocent boy's hand was currently wrapped around the steel knife he kept with him at all times for protection.

The fact that it was already in Dean's hand proved to John how scared his son really was and that even the boy knew his reaction time was going to be slower right now so he got a head start on whatever beast may try to claim his brother while they slept.

Sam curled up next to Dean's side, wrapping his hands around his brother's thin arm. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder but refused to fall asleep. Now it was his turn to be the protector. His turn to watch over his brother. He wouldn't fail him, just as Dean never failed Sam.

John smiled and gently placed his hand on top of Dean's right hand, not realizing that the added pressure to the boy's abdomen would cause him pain. Dean groaned and his head began to toss on the pillow. His muscles tensed from his neck down to his toes and his body became rigid.

"What the… Dean?" John wasn't sure what had just happened or if his son was awake or not. Then he remembered Bobby's words. _He's breathin' better and his cuts are healin', but he has abdominal pain._

John eased his son's stiff right arm to the boy's side and gently lifted the hem of his shirt. In the dark he couldn't see much, but he could feel. He moved his hand carefully over Dean's torso. He found places on Dean's chest that caused him pain in addition to the one just below his ribcage. _Hasn't my boy been through enough? Just give him a break, I'm beggin' you here…_

He ran his other hand over his face in pure exhaustion. What was he supposed to do? How could he help his son? He wished he could just take away all his pain. He would gladly bear it instead.

John quietly exited the room, closing the door behind him.

The next morning, Bobby was the first into the boys' room. Unlike last time, he had no qualms about waking them up. It was physical therapy time.

"Howdy boys! Up and at 'em. We've got some work to do!"

"Bobby?" Dean groaned using his left hand to rub at his eyes. "What are you on about?"

"We've gotta keep you in shape."

"Right… hunting…"

"No, not for hunting. Because you're a human being. Yer not gonna be hunting anytime soon."

"Is that supposed to cheer me up?"

"Did it?"

"Not at all."

"No then. Listen son, there's more to life than hunting."

"Yeah, but it all sucks."

"You are your father's kid through and through."

"Damn straight." Dean smirked and Sam rolled his eyes and he stretched and sat up next to his brother.

"You gonna join him, Sam, or go get somethin' ta eat?"

"I'm out. You guys have fun."

"Don't leave me here with him!" Dean only half kidded.

"Sorry, but you brought this on yourself bro."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Dean's eyes narrowed as he challenged.

"You shouldn't have gone on the hunt in the first place." Sam made his way to the door, his shaggy hair sticking out all over the place.

"Hey! Dad needed me!"

"No, Dean. You wanted dad to need you. He could have taken anyone for backup. You could have gotten yourself killed out there."

"Yeah, well, I didn't."

"Not this time. Don't ever do something that stupid again, okay?"

Dean stared at the bed sheets, refusing to lie to his brother's face. He knew if the situation came about again he'd probably do the exact same thing. What could he say? He was stubborn and selfless.

"Dean! Tell me you won't do that again!" Sam demanded.

"I can't," his brother whispered out, keeping his eyes downcast.

Sam huffed in frustration and anger, then left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Yer brother's right, ya know. It wasn't your fault that you boys all got attacked. That was poor research and plannin'. But you shouldn't have put yourself in that much danger."

"I was just…!"

"Nope. Don't want an excuse. But if I ever get a call saying you did somethin' that stupid again and needed me to sew you back together again I'll kill ya."

"Before or after you stitched me up?"

"Both. Am I makin' myself clear?"

"Crystal."

"Alright then. Let's get to work."

TBC

How'd I do? Dean's got an exhausting road ahead of him to get back his strength and fitness (and a bit more pain due to the stomach issue that'll I'll address soon), but I think the majority of the torture is over. There's plenty more in my other stories if you're interested!! Thanks for sticking with me and for all the encouragement!! You guys are amazing.


	12. Deep Purple

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

Bobby gripped Dean's upper left arm and helped to sit him. Dean grimaced at the abrupt change to vertical and wrapped his hand around his stomach. Bobby's worry increased.

"How's that abdomen of yers doin'?

"S' fine."

"Oh really? That why yer holdin' it?"

"No I'm not." As he spoke, Dean subtly moved his hand away from his stomach, but of course, Bobby noticed.

"Uh huh… Why don't you let me take a look before we get too far?"

"I said it's fine, Bobby."

"Too damn bad. I don't believe you. So sue me. Sit back." Dean just glared and refused to relax against the pillows Bobby placed behind him.

"Sit. Back. Now. Son. Before you cause yerself anymore damage." Dean huffed, but relented. Plus, his abdomen was really beginning to hurt from holding himself upright. All his muscles hurt. He winced as his painful back made contact with the pillows.

Bobby went to lift Dean's shirt but then thought better of it. "I've gotta check yer back out too so we might as well get this shirt off until I'm done and we can get you a clean one. You wanna remove it or do you need help?"

"I got it." Dean hastily grabbed at the hem of his shirt and made to pull it over his head but the movement pulled on his stitches and he yelped in pain, ceasing all movement once again.

"That's what I thought… Hold still." Bobby debated on just cutting the shirt to spare the kid some pain, but he also knew that the Winchesters had few clothes to begin with. He had already lost one shirt the night before.

He had to awkwardly remove the shirt from Dean's left arm first, then over his head and down his right arm so that he wouldn't jar his shoulder. Once it was out of the way, Bobby's jaw dropped. Now he understood why the boy was in so much pain.

Dean's entire torso was now covered in deep bruises. Apparently it hadn't had time to develop when he was brought back that first night and after that no one had taken a look at his abdomen.

"Damn…"

"What?" Dean glanced down and his mouth fell open too. "Well that explains a lot."

"No shit. Sorry, son, but there's nothin' I can do about bruising. Yer just gonna have to wait for it to heal."

"I was afraid of that."

"Good news is you don't have appendicitis."

"Always lookin' for the silver lining, right Bobby?"

"If I don't, who will?" Dean acknowledged this. "So any idea how you got all those new pretty colors on yer skin?"

"Must've landed on a big rock or something when it knocked me down. I didn't even feel it at the time cause that's when it broke my ribs."

"Yeah I reckon that didn't feel too good either. Speakin' of, let's see how they're doin' shall we?" Bobby moved behind Dean and as gently as he could, ran his fingers over the slowly healing breaks. He felt Dean tense. "Easy, Dean."

Dean forced himself to relax through the pain and the uncomfortable feeling of having someone directly behind you and out of sight. He felt safe around Bobby, but his hunter senses still put him on his guard. Bobby of course knew of this having known Dean for many years and didn't fancy a black eye if he startled the young man in any way.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time. Bobby could remember when John first brought a sick Dean to his home when the boy was only around six years old. Bobby asked why he hadn't just taken him to a doctor and John replied that he did but when the doc tried to feel Dean's throat for swollen glands, Dean had almost broken his arm. Needless to say, they didn't go back there.

Apparently Dean thought the man was trying to choke him and did not appreciate being touched by a stranger. After that, Bobby had become the doctor for both Winchester boys. He had to earn Dean's trust before the boy would let him anywhere near him or his baby brother, and even then he kept a weary eye on Bobby whenever he was caring for Sammy.

Even though Dean knew Bobby very well now, he still felt uncomfortable and exposed not being able to see what the man was doing behind his back. Bobby felt a pang of sadness every time Dean flinched or tensed around people because he knew that the boy's fear wasn't unjust or simply due to hunting skills.

When Dean was seven and walking "home" from his bus stop, a man had grabbed him from behind, easily overpowering him and tried to drag him into a van. He tried to fight back but he was pressed flat against the man's chest with his arms pinned to his sides, making it hard for him to struggle. The man had whispered in his ear.

"Good lookin' boy… You'll sell at a high price." Luck was on his side that day when John Winchester had decided to meet his son at the stop because he wanted to surprise him, having arrived home from a hunt a day earlier than expected. When he saw the man dragging his son away, he saw red. In the end, the man would never try to abduct another child off the streets again. John had seen to that.

When he held his shaking boy in his arms whispering words of comfort and wishing Mary was there to help, Dean decided he would always watch his back for then on, never leaving himself exposed again. John had brought Dean straight to Bobby's for safe keeping and told him what had happened.

Bobby knew that the best thing to do at these times was to talk to Dean, making sure the boy knew it was only him and that he would never hurt him. "Just relax, son. Atta boy. It's only me. Take a few deep breaths."

Dean did as he was told, drawing in shaky breaths through his abused body, holding the oxygen in as a lifeline, then slowly releasing it in a quavering breath. Last time someone grabbed his shoulder from behind (a teacher tried to tell him that he had forgotten his notebook), Dean nearly hyperventilated and had to be taken to the school nurse.

That almost turned into a huge disaster because the nurse brought in the school psychologist believing Dean to have been abused. Social services got involved and John nearly punched the nurse for her interference. Having all these strangers around him, bombarding him with questions, trying to find any sign that John was an abusive father, and hearing social services talking about taking him away from his father was making Dean panic all the more.

He actually got so bad that they had to sedate him. When he woke up he was cradled in his dad's arms in their hotel room they were calling home for a few months. Dean had no idea how John had convinced everyone that everything was fine and Dean had just been startled, and he never asked.

"Alright, Dean. Lookin' better. You're still not allowed to leave this bed without assistance though, ya hear me?"

"Got it."

"However, since yer stuck in bed, we've gotta keep you physically fit. So today we're gonna try some easy therapy." Bobby grabbed Dean's sheets and pulled them off of him. Dean groaned and wrapped his arms around himself for warmth.

Bobby pulled the pillows out from behind him and laid him down flat. "Alright. Let's start simple. I want you to slowly bring one knee at a time to yer chest, then slowly lower it back down."

Dean tightened his muscles and slowly bent his left knee, bringing it upwards towards his torso. When he reached halfway, his abdomen gave a particularly harsh throb and he let it drop back down with a grunt of pain.

"Dean?"

"Sorry. I've got it." He immediately tried again but barely made it past his previous height before he dropped it back down again panting.

"Not bad for the first day. Don't worry. You'll get better. Just give it time, son." He could clearly read the frustration on Dean's face. "Try yer right a few times for me."

He did as he was told, getting the same result. His ribs were protesting, his bruised abs throbbed, and his abused lungs wheezed slightly.

"Excellent. Now yer arms. Move them out to the sides likes this…" Bobby took hold of Dean's left arm and brought it straight out to the side, forming a ninety degree angle to the rest of his body.

"I look like I've been crucified."

"No doubt yer gonna feel like it too in a second. Now move them straight up without bending yer elbows until they touch in front of you." Dean's left arm made it up with no problem, but his right arm seized and cramped. He fought through the pain, forcing it up until it touched his left, then slowly guided them both back down. Sweat broke out across his forehead due to the strain and the pain.

"Well done, kid." Bobby placed the palm of his hand flat over Dean's bare chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. "We can't do any sit ups or anything until that bruising goes down and those ribs are healed, so instead we'll work on some breathing exercises."

Half an hour later, Dean had done some deep breathing exercises, coughed when he was instructed to in order to loosen up the congestion that was left and clear out his lungs more, and half a dozen other exercises that Bobby could think of. When Bobby told him he could relax, Dean thought he was going to pass out or fall right back asleep again.

"We'll do this every other day until you start to improve. We'll have you back to yer normal physique in no time. Let's get you some food and Gatorade."

"Gatorade?" Dean panted in confusion.

"It's got stuff in it that's better fer yer body than plan ol' water."

Soon after Bobby left his room, Dean's eyes drifted shut. He had no idea how long he laid like that, but he never heard the soft footsteps on the floor approaching him. He didn't hear the soft drips of the water falling back into the bucket as a rag was wet, then rung out. But he did feel the cool water as the rag touched his sweaty forehead.

His eyes flew open and he jumped away from the hand feeling his heart speeding up again. Only after blinking a few times to focus did he realize it was only his little brother.

"Shit, dude! Don't scare me like that!" Sam dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Sorry, Dean. I was just trying to help." Dean sighed, feeling bad now.

"It's okay, Sammy. You just startled me is all. I'm fine though, thanks."

"You're all sweaty."

"Bobby had me doing a little work out, that's all."

"Can I help now?" Sam held up the damp rag, raising his eyebrows in question. As much as Dean hated to be babied, he couldn't deny Sam when he gave him the puppy dog eyes. The kid perfected it at the age of three and melted his brother's heart every time.

"Knock yourself out." Dean laid back down on his pillows and closed his eyes again in exhaustion. Sam placed the rag back on his forehead and if Dean were honest with himself, it felt pretty damn good.

Sam moved it down the sides of Dean's face and across his throat. Then he rewet it and began moving it over his brother's chest gently. Dean had started to drift off again as Sam mother henned. Sam smiled at his brother when he began to snore softly.

He slowly lowered the blankets to Dean's waist and was startled by the deep bruising he saw coating his brother's entire abdomen. Dean shifted slightly in his sleep as the cool air hit his torso, but otherwise stayed asleep. Sam cooled the cloth off again once more, opened it as far as it would go, and gently laid it over his brother's stomach hoping the coolness of the water would help ease the pain the bruises must be causing Dean.

He quietly rose to his feet and walked out into the kitchen to find Bobby. Jim, John, and Caleb were also in there.

"Bobby, he's got really bad bruising all over his stomach." All eyes were on Bobby.

"Yeah, I know kiddo. I saw it when I was helping Dean with his exercises. Apparently he hit a rock or two when the bastard jumped him."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Jim asked, concerned.

"We can't, but Missouri might," John suggested, remembering the woman's brilliance when it came to herbal remedies.

"I'm on it," Caleb announced as he pulled his cell from his pocket. John felt the warmth spread through his heart. Where the hell would he be if he didn't have friends like these?

TBC

Missouri to the rescue!!! Let me know what you think so far, please!!!!


	13. Like Family

Will have language and violence.

Summary: When Dean fails to reveal how sick he feels, he gives the black dog the upper hand. SickDean, WorriedSam/John. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, John, or anything Supernatural related, but the story is mine. Enjoy!!

The moment Caleb opened his phone the doorbell rang. Everyone threw questioning looks at each other, but it was obvious by their faces that no one was expecting company. John, Bobby, and Caleb drew their guns and made their ways slowly to the front door. John turned to Sam, his hunter mask firmly in place.

"Sam, go to your brother's room and stay there until I say it's clear, understand?"

"Yes, sir." Sam quickly and quietly did as he was told, closing the door behind him and standing protectively over his sleeping brother.

John took lead with Bobby and Caleb covering him on each side. "Who's there?" John demanded.

"For heaven's sake Jonathan Winchester. Open the damn door so I can help that poor boy of yours."

"Missouri?!"

"Well who else would it be? Come on, I won't stand on Jim's doorstep all day."

John opened the door, allowing Missouri and her very large bag of tricks to bustle into the house. She gave him a curt nod.

"John. You look reasonable well considerin'." She acknowledged the others with a nod and smile which they returned. "Bobby. Jim, Caleb… It's been a while. Where're the boys?"

"In their bedroom. Dean's asleep and Sam's watching over him," John informed her.

"How is he? Dean, I mean."

"He's healing, but he was in pretty bad shape when we got him here. He's got two broken ribs, a bite on his shoulder we had to cauterize, claw marks down his back, and apparently deep bruising all over his abdomen. We didn't catch it until a few minutes ago. Oh, and on top of that, he's got pneumonia as well."

Missouri easily read his underlying guilt and anguish. She patted his arm comfortingly. "No sense beatin' yourself up over the past. Just make sure it doesn't happen again in the future." She winked at him.

"He's a mess, Missouri."

"Well, sounds like I have work to do. I'd better get started then." She waltzed straight into the room where the boys were taking up residence.

"Missouri! Thank god you're here!" Sam squeaked out, trying to be quiet and show his relief at the same time."

"Of course I'm here, child. I wouldn't just let your brother suffa." Sam grinned and gave her a welcoming hug which she happily returned. "Let's see what I can do, shall we?"

Missouri turned on the small light on Dean's bedside table, hoping it wouldn't wake the boy. He needed as much rest as he could get. Dean's brow tightened into a slight frown and he turned his head away from the light without waking fully.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Now, to business. Moving painstakingly slow, she pulled his sheets down to his waist to assess the damage to his chest and abdomen. She drew in a quick gasp which she immediately stifled. She had never treated anything that bad before, but it certainly wasn't going to stop her from trying.

"I assume this was never iced?" she asked Sam quietly, pointing to the bruising. Sam shook his head.

"We just realized it was there. It's already been a day, so whatever swelling it was going to do already happened. Not much we can do about it now."

"That's where you're wrong, baby. This is where I come in." She reached into her bag and pulled out a tightly tied ball of cloth.

"What's that?" Sam inquired.

"Just a simple poultice. Some dry greens, comfrey, oatmeal, and charcoal." Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"He doesn't have to eat that, does he?"

"No, no child." She noticed the cooled water by Dean's bedside. "Could you be a dear and warm that up a little for me?" Sam grabbed the bucket and made his way to the bathroom to refresh it.

Missouri placed a cool hand to Dean's forehead. He was still pretty warm. Dean turned his head into her hand, accepting the cooling touch against his skin. She smiled fondly down at him.

"You're gonna be okay, baby," she whispered and brushed his spiky hair back.

"Sammy?" Missouri barely heard the boy's mumble.

"No, hunny. He's in the bathroom."

Dean cracked an eye open and turned his head to the newcomer. He jumped slightly and pulled the blankets back up around himself, feeling self-conscious. He never really got along with Missouri. They were always butting heads, and she made him feel uncomfortable just because he knew she could read his mind and he hated not having that privacy. He held too many secrets, fears, and hopes in there that he didn't want to share with anyone.

"Now, now. I don't bite. Just relax."

"People keep telling me that. I'm as relaxed as I'm gonna get."

"Sure you are."

Sam walked back into the room with the warmed water, smiling broadly at his conscious brother.

"Hey, Dean. Feel any better?"

"Loads. What's going on?"

"Missouri's here to help you."

"I don't need anymore help. You guys have been mother-hennin' me since I got back here."

"Allow me to disagree on that first part, dear." Dean raised an eyebrow at Missouri. "Judging by the pain written all over your face, I'd say you could use a lot more help."

Dean could have strangled the woman when he saw the worried look return to his brother's face. "I'm fine, Sammy. Quit worrying."

"She's right, Dean. You still don't look so good."

"These things don't heal overnight, bro. Just give me a few days and I'll be as good as new."

"With a few homemade remedies, yes you will. Let's get you sittin' up." She lifted him easily by the back of his neck and his left shoulder. Sammy propped pillows behind him and she leaned him back against them with care. The sheet slid back down to his waistline. Dean blushed profusely but only Sammy seemed to have noticed. He giggled and covered his mouth with his hand to his brother wouldn't try to kill him for it.

Missouri took out a bottle and shook out two tablets, peered closely at them to make sure they were the rights ones, then held her hand out for his.

"Alright, now I want you to take these one at a time. Let them dissolve on your tongue." She dumped the tablets into his hand.

"What is this stuff?"

"You're holding Amica Montana and Symphytum."

"Whoa, whoa whoa. Amicable who and symptom what?"

"The names aren't important, boy, just the outcome. The first one is for the bruising, and the second is for your broken ribs. The faster you put them in your mouth, the sooner they'll disappear."

Begrudgingly, Dean popped the first one in his mouth. Sadly, it didn't taste like a cheeseburger. It took all his will not to spit it right back out, let alone sit there quietly and let the thing dissolve on his tongue. He made a face the moment it was gone.

"Good. Now the other," Missouri coaxed.

"Is this really necessary?" Dean stared loathingly down at the other tablet in his hand.

"You enjoy havin' your ribs move on their own?" Dean winced.

"Not particularly."

"Didn't think so. Come along now, we don't have all day." Dean pouted as he placed it on his tongue. At the same time, Missouri prodded his bruised abs. Needless to say, his focus was quickly shifted.

He grunted and bit the tablet right in half, staring daggers at Missouri.

"Don't you swallow that whole boy! It'll do you no good that way. And don't cuss at me!" A sound escaped from deep in Dean's throat, sounding very much like a growl.

"That had better be your stomach." Missouri glared back at him. Dean deflated under her gaze and dropped his to his bedspread. "Now then, can you roll onto your stomach or is that too painful on those bruises?"

"Nah, I can do it, but why?" Dean eyed her warily, wondering what else she could possibly have in that bag of hers.

"Don't second guess me, child. Just do as I say." Dean slowly but surely made his way onto his stomach as Sam removed the pillows once more. He glanced over his shoulder, keeping an eye on Missouri. She pulled out a large jar with murky fluid in it that made Dean's stomach somersault. He prayed he wouldn't have to put it anywhere near his mouth.

"That's just nasty. What's in it?"

Sam set about removing all of Dean's bandages so Missouri had access to the gouges on his back and shoulder.

"My own special recipe. I could tell you the secret ingredients, but then I'd have to kill ya. It's a little cold…" Using her finger, she dabbed a bit on one of his cuts and he hissed in shock.

"It's freezing!"

"Takes away the pain though, doesn't it?" She scooped up more of the concoction and cautiously rubbed it up and down Dean's wounds, including the one in his shoulder. When she finished, he was shaking again and his teeth were chattering.

"A-are… y-y-you al-m-most… d-d-done?" he forced out as the chills racked his body.

"Just about… there! Let's get those wrapped up again and you can turn back over onto your back." Dean tried to stifle his groan with the mattress beneath his head. All this flipping over was getting painful and exhausting. "I'll let you sleep again soon. Promise."

Dean had the strange feeling she had been reading his mind, most likely to see if he was in too much pain to turn over again even if he firmly stated he was okay. The lack of trust made Dean's hackles rise.

Once Sam put the last fresh bandage on his shoulder, his little brother and Missouri helped to flip him once more. As the movement pulled on his bruises he subconsciously threw a hand over his abdomen.

"Let me see," Missouri demanded. She dunked the poultice into the warm water Sam set beside her, moved Dean's hand back to his side, and placed the cloth with its goods over the majority of the bruising. The warmth from the water and cloth helped to ease Dean's shaking slightly.

"Can I sleep now?"

"Almost. Here, drink this." She handed him a hot thermos she pulled from her bag containing lemon juice, honey, and a little brandy. "It'll help with the pneumonia. And lastly…" She pulled one more jar out of her bag. Dean practically sighed with relief. "A little bit of arrack to help with the fever and congestion."

She picked up one of the towels that had been left by Dean's bed and dipped a corner into the jar. Then she proceeded to smear the substance over Dean's chest. Again, he felt the blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

"Honey, it's not like I haven't seen your little twig of a body before. I used to baby-sit you when you were just a little thing you know." That certainly didn't help with the blushing. Sam giggled.

Just as she was finishing, John appeared in the doorway to check on his sons.

"How's he lookin', Missouri?"

"Oh he'll be just fine, John. Don't you worry." He entered the room and sat down on Dean's other side. He ran his fingers through his son's hair, wondering how he had managed to get such a strong boy, a fighter. _I taught them how to fight, but their internal strength must have been from Mary_.

"Hanging in there, champ?"

"Always, dad. You know that." John smiled and kissed him on the forehead. Dean cocked an eyebrow at him, a look of total confusion on his face. _Dad's being really… dad-like. What's up with that?_ A horrible thought crossed his mind and he edged towards his little brother.

"Christo?"

At that, everyone else burst into laughter and Sam gently wrapped his arms around Dean, sensing his big brother's fear and confusion.

"Just me, son. You worried us is all." Dean began to relax again as everyone in the room continued to chuckle. Caleb, Jim, and Bobby walked into the room, curious as to what had brought on the laughing fit.

"What'd we miss?" Bobby gruffed out.

"Dean christoed dad!" Sam burst out into a new wave of laughter and everyone else, including Dean, followed this time. Dean was sure if Sam wasn't attached to him right now his little brother would have fallen off the bed because he was laughing so hard.

"Yes, your father tends to intimidate us all once in a while," Jim chortled.

"Oh come on, he ain't that bad," Caleb threw in. When John's eyes caught his he immediately had the feeling that he was being reprimanded by his own father. "Usually…" They all crowded around Dean's bed, laughing, chatting about the past and just releasing all the tension that had been building over the past few days. Things were finally getting back to normal.

Over the next five days, everyone took turns watching over Dean by alternating hot and cold fomentations (compresses) to his chest to make breathing easier, getting him to drink broth, herbal teas, or orange juice, keeping him in bed at all times (except to use the bathroom), coaching him through deep breathing and physical exercises, and overall constantly driving him insane.

Finally, on the sixth day, both Missouri and Bobby gave Dean a reasonably good bill of health and everyone backed off to give him his space back. Dean was independent and always had been, so he was grateful to return to it. But he would always secretly cherish these few days where everyone he loved was brought together under one roof, like family.

The End

How'd I do?


	14. Author's Note 2

Author's note:

For those of you who are interested, I put up the first chapter of a new story today that is a crossover between Supernatural and Ghost Hunters. It's called The Wrath of the Wrath. Let me know what you think!!!


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